The Learned Game
by eglantine16
Summary: While on a business trip in San Diego, Edward can't find a place to stay. Luckily for him, Bella has a room for rent. Inspired by the Cary Grant film "Walk, Don't Run".
1. Prologue

**The Learned Game**

_While on a business trip in San Diego, Edward can't find a place to stay. Luckily for him, Bella has a room for rent. Inspired by the Cary Grant film Walk, Don't Run._

**A/N:** I do not own Twilight. I do not own _Walk, Don't Run_. I do, however, own two books about Cary Grant. I'm well aware that the idea of Bella and Edward sharing an apartment isn't exactly new. However, it is my hope that this little story will be different enough to be memorable.

* * *

"Architecture is the learned game, correct and magnificent, of forms assembled in the light."

– Le Corbusier

* * *

I know she's watching me from the window two flights up, but I resist the urge to turn around. I move awkwardly, clutching my suitcase. Where is the goddamn taxi?

I don't want to leave. My bottom lip is raw from all the nervous chewing I've been inflicting upon it. It's a habit I picked up from her in the four short weeks we spent together. My cell phone chirps in my pocket, and I pull it out for a quick glance. A welcome distraction, the screen displays a text from Eleazar.

**He's furious. Come home ASAP.**

I shift my weight, and shove the phone back into my jeans pocket. I'll text him from the airport.

I'm dying to turn around. I don't want to leave her. But the last words she spoke to me are echoing in my ears, a sound reminder that she doesn't want me here.

Dad doesn't want me here. Eleazar doesn't want me here. But their wishes pale in comparison to hers. I'd give up my job, my inheritance, even my precious Corvette, to stay. But Bella doesn't want me.

Heartbreak and anger do not mix well. The taxi finally arrives, and I clamber in, my insides fuming. I won't look. I won't look.

But as the car pulls away, her magnetic presence draws my eyes upward.

I look.

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**A/N: **Short. I know. Chapter 1 coming soon. :) Reviews appreciated.


	2. No Room at the Inn

**Chapter 1**

* * *

_[Four weeks earlier]_

**EPOV**

I was in the middle of texting rapidly on my iPhone when I realized that after waiting for 15 minutes, I was finally next in line. Hurriedly stuffing my cell into the pocket of my jacket, I walked up to the counter of the Manchester Grand Hyatt.

"How can I help you?" the perky red-head at the counter greeted me, all white teeth and plumped lips. Her eyes roved over me hungrily, and I tried my best to ignore her blatant eye fuckery.

"Hi. Checking in."

"Certainly sir," purring emanated from her long throat. "Name?"

"Cullen. Edward."

Smiley typed awkwardly, looking up my information. A covert glance revealed ridiculously long red acrylic nails. Girls can never function with those things. Why bother? I thought with a mental eye-roll.

In a twist of fate, her smile faltered. "Oops, I'm afraid we have a slight problem."

"What's that?"

"Your reservation isn't scheduled until July 25…today is July 21," she simpered.

"I'm well aware of today's date," I grit my teeth, tired and hungry and really not wanting to be here. Soft beds and room service beckoned to me from upstairs. "My meetings were rescheduled. My office called and moved my reservation."

Smiley typed some more, but her response remained the same. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Cullen, but your reservation is scheduled for July 25. There's no record of a phone call regarding altering your stay with us."

I sighed. I'd have to have a talk with Irina about her forgetfulness again. "I see. Well, do you have any rooms available? I don't need a suite if you don't have any."

Smiley didn't even type. She just gazed at me through her fake eyelashes, adopting a look that I figured was supposed to pass for apologetic and sexy at the same time. "Oh Mr. Cullen, I'm terribly sorry for any misunderstanding. You see, we're all full until July 25. It's Comic Con, you see."

I blinked. "Comic Con?"

"Oh, yes. The convention. This is San Diego. Every hotel is pretty much booked solid this weekend…but…I'm not booked," she fluttered her eyelashes.

I groaned in distress. Fucking Irina…time to get a new secretary. "Listen, um…" I glanced at her nametag, "…Victoria. My office was supposed to call and move my reservation. I have some very important meetings with the head of PFI. I'm only staying here for two days. There has to be at least one little room in this huge place that isn't being used."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Cullen, I really can't help you. You might want to try one of the littler hotels on the outskirts of town. One of the Red Roof Inns or Motel 6's might have a room, although the chances aren't good," she advised, before her voice dropped to a whisper. "Or you can come and stay with me."

I frowned at her lack of professionalism. "No, thank you."

Picking up my suitcase, I strode away from the desk before she could proposition me again.

Retrieving my phone, I finished the email I'd been composing in reply to the President of PFI, James Moore, as I strode back to my rental car. PFI stood for Petersburg Furniture International, the up and coming home furnishings store based in Virginia. Expanding rapidly, Moore was set on building not only corporate offices, but a chain of stores, in California. My father's company, Cullen Construction, would handle the plans for both the architecture and building process if everything went well at the scheduled meetings.

Collapsing into the seat of the silver Volvo I'd acquired at the airport, I looked up directions on my cell for the nearest Motel 6. It wasn't ideal, but I was tired and just wanted a place to crash.

I eventually found my way through the San Diego traffic. I remembered staying in Motel 6's when I was a kid, before Cullen Construction took root. Once we had success, Dad showered us with expensive vacations. Motel 6 quickly became a thing of the past for Carlisle. I made a mental note not to say anything about the reservation mistake to him. Dad wouldn't be too happy if he knew I wasn't staying at the Hyatt.

The man behind the counter at Motel 6 was the complete opposite of Smiley. Portly and sulky, he snuck guzzles from a beer bottle when he thought no one was looking. When I inquired about a room, he just laughed. "Sorry kid," he managed to say through his somewhat wheezy chortles. "But you see those guys?" he pointed out the window. I followed his finger and spotted a group of people unloading a van. "They're here for Comic Con. Everyone is here for Comic Con. You couldn't get a hotel room today in San Diego even if you bribed someone."

My heart sank a little. "Look, sir, I need a place to stay. Any place. Can you at least recommend somewhere?"

"Boy, you don't take no for an answer, do ya? I told you, we're all full. If you're not picky though, you should check that out," he pointed again, this time at a bulletin board on the wall. "Sometimes students from the local schools post ads for roommates and shit. Maybe you can find one to let you stay a few days."

I glanced at the cluttered board, unsure of what to do. "Don't be a chicken shit, take a look," the man gestured again, and I scurried to the other end of the room. He took another sip from his Corona, and I turned my eyes to the pinned papers and posters.

Most of the board was taken up with bulletins for local attractions, like the San Diego Zoo. There were a few ads for local bands, wanted posters for lost pets, and even a piece of card stock advertising the benefits of being a webcam model. The Corona guy was right, though. There were four ads for roommates posted among the others. I read over the details on each one, but it was the last that caught my eye.

**Looking for someone to help pay rent. Large apartment, view of La Jolla beach, washer and dryer in unit. Female applicants only. Contact Bella Swan at (619) 292-0845 for more information.**

Although the paper specified that this Bella Swan wanted a female roommate, I felt compelled to give the girl a call. I gave another uncertain perusal at the other three apartment offers. They looked shady in comparison with Miss Swan's, so without thinking twice, I pulled out my phone, dialed quickly, and with a wave at the man behind the counter, I walked out into the San Diego sunshine.

Leaning against the door of the Volvo, I waited through five rings before a soft, breathy voice echoed in my ear. "Yeah?"

"Might I speak with a Miss Bella Swan?"

I heard rustling in the background as the feminine voice cleared its throat quickly. "This is she."

"Hello Miss Swan, my name is Edward Cullen. I just saw your advertisement in the Motel 6 off of the Pacific Highway, and I was wondering if you might be willing to rethink your stipulation of female applicants only."

Silence greeted me. "Um...hello?" I stammered into the phone.

"Why should I do that?" Miss Swan finally replied cautiously.

"I know this probably sounds creepy and weird, but its completely true; I'm in town for some very important meetings, but I didn't know that it was Comic Con—apparently every hotel in San Diego is booked solid...I have nowhere to stay, and I hope it wouldn't be too much if I could just crash on your couch for four nights."

She didn't respond again, so I pressed a little more. "I'll pay you whatever you like. I was going to dish out $425 a night to stay at the Hyatt. I'm sure that we can come to an agreement."

She cleared her throat again, and I wondered idly if it was a nervous habit, or if she was coming down with something. "That sounds great, because I could certainly use the money. But...how do I know—"

"—that I'm not a psycho?" I finished her question with a curt laugh.

"Um...yeah, I guess so," she sounded slightly amused behind the dominating tone of distrust that colored the conversation.

"This is going to make me sound like a dick, but just look me up on Google. Edward Cullen, Cullen Construction. I'll even provide ID and I can have my office send you any background information you'd like."

More silence. I looked up at the swaying palm trees that lined the road, and turned it up a notch. I wanted to take a nap, damn it, and it wasn't going to be in the back seat of a rental car. "I know that this is a lot to ask, Miss Swan. I'm a complete stranger, not to mention a man—but I'm in a bit of a hole here. I would be eternally grateful if you would at least consider it. Could we meet for coffee, perhaps, while you make up your mind? My treat." I let honey coat my words.

"Well...I suppose we could do that. My friend and I are actually leaving work right now. We're about to head to the Starbucks on First. You could meet us there if you really want."

"Are you certain? I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable," I said as I turned around and unlocked the car.

It sounded as though she put the phone to her shoulder and began speaking to someone. I heard hushed tones and muffled words, but nothing distinct. I went ahead and sat down, turning on the car, immediately grateful for the AC. Her voice returned, and it wasn't as clipped as before. "Yes, that'll be fine. What was your name again?"

I grinned. "Cullen. Edward Cullen."

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**A/N: **Hi y'all. :) I've been away from fanfiction for a while, but this plot bunny (which first occurred over a year ago) just wouldn't quit. I had to write it down or go mad. I hope you enjoy my latest endeavor! My current plan for updating is to post a teaser on my blog (link in profile) on Wednesdays, and to post new chapters on Friday mornings (Pacific time). Depending on when chapter 2 gets polished, this cycle could either begin this Friday, or the next. Reviews are always encouraging. Thanks for reading!


	3. Close Encounters of the Bronze Kind

**Chapter 2**

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**BPOV**

I stared at Alice's iPhone, which I had hurriedly borrowed to look up one Edward Cullen, as suggested. Alice kept trying to glance at the screen while driving. "Stop that!" I chided her. "Keep your eyes on the road."

"Yes Mommy," she smirked at me, focusing once more on getting us safely to our destination.

I turned my eyes back to the plethora of results Google had come up with. This guy wasn't kidding. He was all over the internet—news reports, an expansive website for Cullen Construction, not to mention the pictures. There were so many pictures. Most of them were of him with two other men, whom I assumed were his father and brother based on what I'd skimmed on the website's brief biographies of the company's top executives.

"So what does it say?" Alice tried another sneaking glance. "What? The light is red, Swan. Chill."

I sighed. "Well, Edward Cullen is a real person, and Cullen Construction is a real company. The site said that someone named Carlisle Cullen is the president and CEO. Edward is the Chief Commercial Officer, whatever that means. And I guess his brother holds a high position, too. So if the guy we meet here matches Edward Cullen's picture, then I guess we're in the clear."

Alice responded, but my ears were suddenly deaf as I continued flipping through Google images. There were other pictures, too; not just of him shaking hands with clients or posing with executives, but of him on the beach with no shirt, at a movie premiere with a tall exotic woman in a red dress, in his backyard holding a beer. And in each, he bore the same magnetic smile.

"Here!" Alice announced, putting her Mini Cooper in park. I glanced up from the phone nervously, as though I'd been caught looking at porn. Seeing the deepening blush on my cheeks, she snatched the phone from me in one of her ninja moves. Alice was small and light, and moved so quickly and quietly that sometimes I wondered why she hadn't gone into gymnastics—or the military, for that matter.

"Oh sweet mother of fucking pearl..." she gasped, looking at the last picture that had caught my eye. "That man can wear a suit!"

"Yes. Yes he can."

"Oh Bella, imagine living with this guy! Even if it's only for a few days...hot damn."

"Alice, don't drool. Remember Jasper? Your _fiancé_?" Unbuckling my seatbelt, I twisted in my seat to retrieve my purse.

"I'm only appreciating God's handiwork. Geez. He knew what He was doing when He designed Edward Cullen," Alice said, stowing her phone in her jeans pocket and opening the door. "Let's go!"

I groaned. If the man who had found my ad wasn't a psycho, and really was Edward Cullen, could I do this? Could I meet with this hunk of gorgeous man and keep my mouth from catching flies? Could I stay composed and be an adult? I'd always been bad at talking to hot guys, hence the ultra-embarrassing prom fiasco of 2004. We didn't talk about that.

Swallowing my unease, I followed Alice into the cheery Starbucks. Immediately calmed by the familiar scent of arabica, I took stock of my surroundings. And there he was.

A man who matched Edward Cullen's picture was seated at a table in the back, his reddish-brown hair framed by posters of African elephants. He was already looking in our direction, and I was shocked to realize that I could see his bright green eyes from across the room. There was no way he could have known I was the woman he'd talked to on the phone just fifteen minutes earlier, but he smiled that same smile—straight, gorgeous teeth flashed at me, and I tugged on Alice's shirt.

"That's him."

"Well, let's go then." Alice, never one to hesitate, marched over to his table. Like a gentleman out of some Austen novel, he actually stood as we approached.

"Mr. Cullen, I presume," Alice stuck out her hand. "My name is Alice Brandon. I was with Bella when you called about the apartment."

"Lovely to meet you, Ms. Brandon," Edward spoke, his voice deeper than I'd imagined it. He shook her hand briefly, turning those spellbinding eyes onto my form.

_Treat him like a patient. Treat him like a patient._ Putting on my best Professional Bella face (Professional Bella was far less nervous and clumsy than Bookworm Bella), I took a quick assessment as I, too, reached out my hand.

"Bella Swan," I introduced myself, although the necessity had quite passed.

He grinned, clasping my small hand. His was warm and dry, sturdy, with no signs of tremors.

"Bella." The way he said my name almost made my toes curl. His voice was Nutella on warm French bread.

Alice, who had already made herself at home by sitting down and pulling random shit out of her purse, looked up at us. "Okay, that's a long enough handshake, Bella. Sit down."

Color flooded my face as I broke our bond. Edward pulled my chair out for me, and I blushed even harder. _Stop it, or he'll think your superpower is turning into Tomato Woman._

"I'm sorry, I don't understand," he folded his tall frame back down into his chair against the wall. His emerald glance flickered between me and Alice.

"Bella thinks she can ascertain someone's personality through a handshake."

His gaze turned back to me. "Is that so?" his lips turned up in a small smirk. "What did you learn about me?"

I straightened my back. "Its just a trick I learned from my dad. He's a policeman." I let my words hang in the air, waiting to see the telltale squirm that usually accompanied guys when I told them about my father's profession. But Edward remained calm, his eyes only showing interest.

"How intriguing. How long has he served?" Edward asked.

"Since before I was born. He loves it...I honestly don't think he'd be happy doing anything else. In fact, when he retires he might go crazy." I couldn't help but smile thinking of how even-tempered Charlie would eventually get sick of fishing one day.

Edward returned my smile. Our eyes locked for a moment before Alice huffed in frustration. "What's wrong?" I inquired patiently, trying to be civil in front of this virtual stranger.

Alice turned her giant purse upside down, and I realized that all its contents were spread over the table. "I can't find my Starbucks card!" she wailed. "I need my peppermint mocha, Bella!"

Edward put his hand out gently, lowering the purse. "Coffee's on me, size would you like, Miss Brandon?"

A radiant smile filled her pixie face. "Grande, please. Thanks so much Mr. Cullen!"

He stood, fishing his wallet from his pants pocket. "And what do you want, Bella?"

"Oh no, that's all right—" I rushed to refuse him. I didn't need him, or anyone else, to buy my coffee for me. I might have been struggling financially, but thanks to Charlie it was in my blood not to accept charity...or gifts of any kind, really. We Swans didn't do well with things like that. It tended to make us uncomfortable.

"I'm buying you something, whether you drink it or not. Come on," he insisted, those green orbs boring into my face, searching for a weakness. I suddenly got the feeling that he didn't like to take no for an answer. "Please."

I caved. _Just this once_. "A tall iced coffee with non-fat milk. Sweetened, please."

"Sweet it shall be," he promised. And then he winked.

As he strode off to place our order with the barista, Alice spoke under her breath. "He's so much better looking than his pictures! Bella, you have to let him stay with you. How could you possibly say no to that face?"

I turned slightly in my chair to watch him. The female barista, a skinny teenager with freckles and a lisp, was doing her best to flirt with the gorgeous man in front of her. I could barely hear him over the whir of the blender and the chatter of the other customers, and the annoying Katy Perry song that seemed to be on repeat, but it was obvious that he was being charming. The poor girl was nearly falling over the cash register. I shook my head to clear it, and looked back at my best friend.

"I still don't know anything about him, other than the fact that he works for Cullen Construction."

"Shhh," she hushed me, stuffing her belongings back into her purse.

Edward suddenly appeared at my elbow, and set down my drink in front of me, a straw balanced precariously on its lid. "Thank you," I said softly, not used to having things brought to me.

"My pleasure. Miss Brandon, yours and mine are on their way. I believe they were having some trouble with the blender."

"Oh, no problem. Please, sit down," Alice commanded. "So, Mr. Cullen. Tell us about you."

Edward glanced at me, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. I found myself loving his reaction to Alice's no-nonsense approach. Some men were intimidated by her. I wasn't sure Edward Cullen was intimidated by anything.

"Where to begin?" he started, shrugging out of his suit jacket. I was surprised he hadn't taken it off earlier—it was upwards of 95 degrees outside. "My father owns Cullen Construction. I don't know if you've heard of it or not, but we're pretty big in Chicago and most of the Midwest. We've also done some things in New York. But my father prefers to stay close to home. Anyway, we received a wonderful opportunity to land an account with Petersburg Furniture International. They're looking to build several things on the West Coast, mostly down here Southern California. As the CCO, I have a series of meetings—"

"Oh, sorry," Alice interrupted. "I don't mean to be rude or anything. I'm sure your job is fascinating and all, but I really wanted to know about you. What sort of man are you. I mean, don't you think that if Bella is going to let you stay with her that she has a right to know?"

"Of course she does. I assumed that you were asking why I needed a place to stay," he replied swiftly.

"What she means to say is that you already told us why," I inserted gently, desperate to downplay Alice's pushiness. I knew that she only meant well, and was looking out for me, but there was a fear deep down in my stomach that she would put Edward off. I needed his money for rent. I was dangerously close to having to give up my apartment and move in with Alice and Jasper, who, as a newly engaged couple, would probably not appreciate my being a third wheel. And there was something else, too; I wanted to get to know this businessman with the easy, sincere smile and mussed bronze hair. "We just want to know a little more about you personally."

Edward watched me carefully, and I could tell he was weighing my calmness against Alice's brash interruption. "Okay. Well...my favorite author is Kurt Vonnegut. I enjoy listening to music. If you browsed my iPod you'd find a mixture of everything from Debussy to the Beatles to Coldplay...and Eleazar may have put some Britney Spears on there, but changed all the names to stuff like Nightwish so that I would get tricked into listening."

I burst out laughing, thinking that it was exactly the sort of prank my friend Emmett would play.

"Keep talking, guys, I'm gonna see what's up with our orders," Alice patted my shoulder as she left the table. I sipped my coffee, suddenly feeling very comfortable with Edward.

"Eleazar is your brother?" I inquired, remembering the bios on the Cullen Construction website.

He nodded. "Yes, my older brother. My parents adopted him when they were first married and it didn't seem as though they would be able to conceive. Then I came along twelve years later. Surprise!"

I laughed again. "So what else do you like to do besides read and listen to a cleverly disguised _Hit Me Baby One More Time_?"

Edward ran a hand through his hair as he thought for a moment, and I watched those digits move through the strands like long grass. He had the sort of dextrous fingers my mother Renee would die for. "You work with your hands, don't you?"

"Did you deduce that from my handshake?"

My cheeks brightened. "No. But they look like artist's hands. Do you play guitar or...do wood carving or something?"

"No, nothing like that. I'm a...well, I have a degree in architecture."

"So you draw."

His lips tightened, and I got the sickening feeling that I'd crossed some invisible line. "Not much anymore." He tried to smile to ease the sudden tension, and I quickly changed the subject.

"What's your favorite TV show that's currently airing?"

"The Office. Although its not nearly as good without Steve Carell. Parks and Recreation is a close second."

"Good answer!" I saluted him with my coffee cup.

"What about you, Bella Swan?" Edward leaned forward on his elbows, his gaze inquisitive. "What do you do?"

"In my spare time, or for a living?"

"Both."

Fingering my discarded straw wrapper, I met his eyes again, finding it increasingly difficult to look away from him. "I'm a Physical Therapist by day, voracious reader by night."

"Interesting," he raised a single eyebrow. "What do you enjoy reading?"

"Mostly the classics. Austen, Bronte, Shakespeare, Dumas, and so on. But lately I've been really into the Game of Thrones series."

"The book they made the TV show out of?" he glanced over my shoulder. Alice was still standing at the counter, chatting with the barista.

"That's the one. There are five books right now, actually. I'm on book three."

"I've never really tried any current fantasy or sci-fi books. My experience pretty much ended with _The Hobbit_," he admitted.

"Is that why you didn't know about Comic Con?"

"I guess so."

"Well, you're gonna see a lot of that," I gestured with a nod of my head toward the window on our right. A man and woman were outside in the parking lot, dressed as Sookie and Eric from True Blood.

Edward nodded. "Got it. So, Bella..."

"Yeah?"

"We haven't actually discussed the apartment."

"You're right, we haven't."

"Do you feel that we are less of strangers now? Enough to discuss our situation?"

I lingered, taking a long pull on my straw. "Yes, I think so," I finally answered. I was met with a dazzling smile.

"You said you were going to pay upwards of $400 a night for your hotel, correct?" I asked. When he confirmed, I continued, "Well my rent is $975 right now for a two bedroom, one bathroom. Its actually pretty cheap for San Diego, but I'm broke right now, so..."

He looked at me quizzically, and I knew he was trying to calculate how much money a PT made. I saved him the trouble. "School loans."

"Ah. Say no more." His eyes were sympathetic.

"Anyway, I was planning on charging my roommate exactly half of what I pay, but I guess that wouldn't be fair since you'd be staying for...?"

"Four nights, if it's not too much trouble."

"Okay. Well, I guess I could charge you maybe $100 a night?"

Edward's jaw literally dropped open. "Bella, that's ridiculous. I can afford to pay you what I was going to pay the hotel. I can pay half your rent to you for four nights, no problem. So that would be...$1950 total."

I knew surprise was written all over my face. I hadn't had that much money to myself in some time. I quickly disguised my glee with, "Wow. You're good at math."

He gave that small smirk again. "Since you're doing me such a huge favor, especially considering that I'm a man, why don't we just make it 2 grand even."

I tried not to drool at the thought of $2000 making my life easier for the next few months. "That—that would be great. Thank you."

"So its a yes?" he pressed, his chair suddenly much closer to my own. I could have reached out and brushed his hair away from his eyes, or traced the curve of his high cheekbones.

How hard could it be to let this guy crash with me for four nights? It would be over before I knew it.

"Yes."

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**A/N:** Thank you for reading. :)

Speaking of _The Hobbit_...who's excited for the movies? I know I am.

Reviewers get a sneak peak in their inboxes for chapter 3. Keep an eye on the blog for an extra picture teaser as well!


	4. Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?

**Chapter 3**

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**EPOV**

I was a little on the nervous side all the way to her apartment. I'd followed Alice's small blue Mini in my rented Volvo, my left leg bouncing anxiously the whole trip. If I hadn't needed my right leg to operate the pedals, I might have been pacing.

_How lucky am I?_

Bella Swan was breathtakingly beautiful. But she wasn't the sort of girl I'd expect to see in a magazine or on a runway—her beauty was genuine. The sight of her when she'd walked through the Starbucks door had literally made my breath catch in my throat. Her long brown hair matched her brown eyes; her pale skin was quick to blush; her full lips needed no false color. A little shy and definitely sweet, she was the perfect incarnation of the innocently ravishing girl-next-door that every red-blooded American boy lusted after.

_You, sir, are definitely one very heterosexual, virile man._

It was going to be difficult being in close quarters with this woman for four nights. I knew from the first glance that it would be difficult to keep myself from making any moves on her, but I would have to refrain. If we'd met in any other situation, I would have hit on her without a doubt. She would have come back to my hotel suite with me and we would have fucked. Hard.

_You're going to be a guest in her house_, I kept reminding myself over and over, the phrase becoming a mantra as we drew closer to our destination.

It was a pleasant little apartment complex—not the sort of thing I was currently used to, but it reminded me of my college days. It had a communal pool and gym, but no laundry room. Apparently each apartment was equipped with a washer and dryer. Bella's apartment was at the top of a flight of stairs, and Alice kept eyeing me as I carried my suitcase up the steps. I was pretty certain she was ogling my arms, but I wasn't going to say anything.

Not to sound like an ass or anything, but I was used to women staring.

Bella fumbled when she tried to unlock the door, and I instinctively knew she was nervous. Did she not have male visitors on a frequent basis? A gorgeous, successful woman like her...

I reached slowly around Alice, and grasped Bella's trembling hand as she continued to wrestle with the lock. "You have the teeth upside down," I said gently, turning the key over, wondering all the while if she would turn that delicious pink color at my correction.

She did.

We finally got inside, and I was immediately plunged into the essence of Bella. I may have known her for less than an hour, but there was no mistaking that this was her home. For starters, the living room smelled like her—it took me a moment, but I soon recognized the light coconut scent I had whiffed briefly over the overpowering smell of Starbucks' coffee.

The rest of the room and its belongings were easy to place as Bella's, based on our previous conversation. Books were scattered everywhere. I noted quickly that this wasn't because she was messy, but because she had run out of space on her bookshelf. Just as I was reaching for what looked to be a copy of Samuel Richardson's _Pamela_, something small and dark darted across the room, between my legs, ending up somewhere in the vicinity of the kitchen.

"What the—?"

"Don't mind the cat," Alice brushed past me, tossing her colossal purse onto the blue couch. "That's Lord Voldemort. He's a grumpykins."

"Grumpykins?"

"Yeah. In a state of continual grumpiness."

"So, would you like the grand tour?" Bella was in the middle of moving the sliding glass door on the other side of the living room to let in some air. The door opened onto a small patio, where I spied numerous cacti in clay pots, and a few things that looked like they had once been flowers.

"Certainly."

"Great, so...um...this is the living room. Where I do my living." Bella gestured around her awkwardly. "The kitchen is right over here."

I set down my suitcase and followed her. The kitchen was just about big enough to fry an egg in, and not much else. I ran my architect's eye over the design, and noted several places where I could have easily made the room more spacious.

The two bedrooms were down the hall, one on each side, with the single bathroom at the end. "This one's mine," Bella reached into the room on the left side to pull the door closed—but not before I glimpsed a dark purple bedspread. "And this one's yours."

She led me into the second bedroom. It wasn't a large room—but granted, I'd been expecting to stay in a suite at the Grand Hyatt. At any rate, this was definitely better than a sleazy motel. "Sorry if its kind of dusty in here," she apologized, hovering in the doorway. "No one has slept here since Alice moved out."

"Oh, this was Alice's room?" I asked, sitting on the bed to subtly test its comfort. I ran my hands over the white blanket. This would do nicely.

"Yeah," Bella leaned against the door jam. "We were roomies before she went and got engaged to Jasper."

"I heard that!" Alice's voice drifted in from the living room.

Bella chuckled. "Anyway, is the room all right?"

"It's perfect. Thank you again, Bella. You're doing me such a huge favor."

Her cheeks were rosy, and her dark eyes moved nervously over me. "You're welcome. I hope you don't mind cats."

I did sort of mind cats—furry little assholes who used your legs as scratching posts and your clothes as hair collectors—but I wasn't about to say anything. "No, it's cool."

She smiled in what looked to be relief. "Oh, good. Voldy stays out of people's way for the most part anyway, so he shouldn't be a bother."

I snickered, remembering all too clearly the clever ditty to which she was referring. "Voldy's gone moldy?"

"You read Harry Potter?" her smile got impossibly brighter. "We're going to get along just fine."

#

After writing Bella her check for 2 grand, I offered to cook dinner as an extra thank-you. She refused, and Alice advised me not to offer to do anything while I stayed with Bella. But I insisted, and Alice wished me luck as she backed out of the apartment. "Don't say I didn't warn you," she said, the door closing behind her.

I wasn't exactly sure what she meant by that, but goddammit, I wanted to cook Bella a nice meal. She had been far too excited over a measly $2000—when was the last time someone had done something nice for her, like cooked her Italian? Had anyone ever given her anything?

I shooed her out of the kitchen and made myself at home. Cullens had a way of doing that.

I found the perfect ingredients for lasagna, and went to work. Bella kept peeking around the counter, trying to see what I was up to. "Please let me help," she practically begged as I laid the strips of pasta down in the glass baking dish. "I'm really not used to just sitting here."

I looked up at her tone, and saw that she was serious. "Are you that uncomfortable?"

She nodded, and I finally relented. "Well...do you have anything to go with lasagna? Something appetizer-ish? Or something to drink?"

She immediately brightened up, and I felt something stir in my gut when she smiled that way. "I have a bottle of Moscato! Does that go with Italian food?"

"Sure. Moscato is good."

I continued working while she found the wine in the back of the fridge and coaxed the cork out. She poured two glasses just as I finished with the last of the layering. The dish went into the oven, and she handed me a glass. Our fingers brushed, and I swear to fucking Zeus that she gasped a little.

Not wanting to further her unease, I pretended I hadn't heard her. "To me not having to sleep in my car!" I raised my glass in a toast.

"Hear, hear," she concurred, tapping her glass against mine. We both drank, and I couldn't help but stare at the way her lips molded to the delicate stemware.

_You're a guest. You're a fucking guest. Behave, jackass._

We moved into the living room, and Bella collapsed onto the couch. She had already relaxed after two sips of wine, and I wondered if she was a lightweight. I gingerly sat on the opposite end, noting that Lord Voldemort was staring at me with luminous yellow eyes from under the coffee table.

"Do you mind if I turn on the TV?"

"Of course not," I assured her, sipping the Moscato. It wasn't high quality, but it was fresh and sweet.

She dug around in the couch cushions until she found the remote. She flipped through several channels before settling on an airing of The Sword in the Stone. "Oh my gosh, do you remember this movie?" she asked.

I nodded, setting my glass on the coffee table. "Of course. I watched all the Disney movies with religious zeal as a child."

"Me too! Which one's your favorite?"

This was a first. Drinking wine in a beautiful PT's apartment, discussing animated film instead of hinting at sex. "Does Pixar count?"

"Of course." She sounded mildly offended.

"Hmm. Well...of the classics, I'd say probably Robin Hood. And for Pixar, it's hands down Wall-E."

"You have pretty good taste," she announced. "Wall-E was sweet. Such a beautiful love story between him and Eve."

I raised my eyebrows. "They're robots."

"But it's so...I don't know, wholesome. Their love is pure. And destined. I mean, really, what were the chances of them meeting? Next to none. And they still found each other. It kind of gives me hope for the future," she confessed.

I probably shouldn't have asked, but the words were running out of my mouth before I could stop them. "Why not hope for the present?"

Bella looked away, toward the TV. Merlin was in the middle of turning Wart into a fish. "My track record with guys isn't exactly a great one," she said. "I mean, I'm 26. I know that's not old or anything, but most of my friends are engaged to be married, or already married, or have at least been in a few serious relationships since high school. I've had none of that. And it kind of bums me out sometimes."

I wasn't sure how to reply. The polite thing probably would have been to offer some sort of advice or story from my own life—wasn't that what people did in conversations like this?—but relationships were a touchy subject for me.

She noted my awkward silence quickly, and laughed nervously, clutching her glass. "Sorry for the personal avalanche. Sometimes wine does that to me."

I opened my mouth to answer when Bella's eyes suddenly widened and she leapt up. Her glass fell to the floor, the carpet eagerly drinking up the remainder of her wine. "The oven!" she shrieked, dashing past me.

I jumped up as Bella ran to the kitchen. The smell of burnt food prompty pervaded the living room, and I couldn't help but worry in the back of my mind as to why the smoke alarm wasn't going off. I followed her quickly, and found her pulling a very ruined lasagna from the oven.

"Oh, Edward..." she lamented, setting the steaming black mass on the stove. It positively reeked, and I moved to open the window above the sink.

"Bella, I'm so sorry. I must have forgotten to set the timer. So much for my attempt at cooking." I felt like a grade-A asshole. Here she was, struggling for money enough to let a stranger stay with her, and I'd gone and ruined a perfectly good meal made with groceries that she had paid for.

She gave me a sympathetic smile as she fanned the air with a dishtowel, clearing out some of the acrid smell. "It's okay, mistakes happen. Why don't you just pour some more Moscato, and I'll order some Thai food. Do you like Thai?"

"I love it."

Grabbing a thrice-folded take-out menu from the junk drawer, she tucked her old flip phone against her shoulder. Her hair fell down her back, rippling with the movement. I kind of wanted to bury my nose in that hair.

"Anything in particular you prefer?" she asked

_You. Naked._

"Pad See Ew?"

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone who favorited, followed, and reviewed during the past week. Those of you who are writers know how encouraging and uplifting that can be for a person. :)

Special thanks to my beta Misty (aka edwardrocksmysocks) for getting this chapter back to me so quickly! And x's and o's to everyone who recommended this little WIP on FB (The Lemonade Stand and The FicWhisperer Recommends!). Chapter 4 should be up next Friday. Keep an eye on the blog for Tuesday's pic tease.

I've also posted a short Q & A over there. If you care to read, you can find the link to my blog on my profile, as well as my twitter tag.


	5. American Beauty

**Chapter 4**

* * *

**BPOV**

Dinner was relaxing.

Too relaxing.

Edward wasn't joking about liking Thai food. I'd ordered several dishes, assuming that he was like the other men I knew: bottomless pits.

He proved me right. He'd filled his plate the first time, and gone back for seconds. Twice. And very quickly. I was still working on my first serving of Pad Thai when he leaned back on the couch, the empty plate balanced on his knees, a happy grin on his face.

We'd finished The Sword and the Stone and moved on to Frasier reruns. When home alone, I usually sat in the middle of the couch, but I made sure to keep myself on the left cushion this time. Edward was on the far right. I was continually tempted to scoot over just an inch or two to be closer to him, but I made myself stay put.

I was desperately trying not to come across as awkward or needy or anything weird. We were just two people watching TV. And afterwards, he would sleep in the bedroom across from me. Probably in the nude. No big deal.

The Frasier marathon ended around 10 pm, which was usually the time I went to bed anyway. Edward took his suitcase into his room and I hovered in the entry to my own room. Like a creeper.

"Good night," I said softly. Edward glanced up at me from unzipping his suitcase.

"Good night, Bella."

I smiled, and closed my door. Leaning against it, I let out a giant sigh of relief, the smile dropping from my face.

It was too hot in my room. I should have moved to open the window and let in a breeze, but I was frozen against the door. Frustration was coursing through me.

I wanted to scream into my pillow to release some of my tension. I'd never been this physically attracted to anyone, ever—not even the asshole whom I'd let take my virginity during my first week of college.

Edward had just sat there, all relaxed and laughing, like he didn't even know how his personality filled up my little living room. His smile eclipsed everything. Numerous times throughout the evening, I'd found myself staring shamelessly at his lips, his hair, his hands. His crotch.

"Relax, Bella," I whispered to myself. It wouldn't do me any good to make any moves on Edward. For one thing, I didn't have any fucking moves to begin with. I would probably just make a fool of myself, falling all over a guy I barely knew.

Besides, he was only going to be here for three more nights after this. There was a pretty decent chance that my attraction would get out of hand, and then I'd be heartbroken when he went back to Chicago.

What's more, there was no way he would be interested in a girl like me.

_There. I admitted it._

Edward was totally out of my league. He was handsome. He was rich. He was an executive at a hugely successful company. He hadn't indicated that he was in any way interested in me, at all. He probably already had a girlfriend, anyway. Sure, he was charming; but he'd treated Alice the same way, as well as the Starbucks barista. He was only here because of some secretary's error. He had planned to stay at the Grand Hyatt, for goodness sake. I wouldn't dare to even step into their lobby.

Sighing again, I decided to just change and go to bed. Maybe sleeping on these realizations would make the crush diminish. Grabbing my pajamas, I shed my clothing. I was a little tempted to sleep naked since it was so hot, but that might be weird with a man across the hall.

The thought sent a little jolt of something down to my lady bits. What if he walked in here while I was naked? The idea excited me, but I shoved it down, mentally stomping on it for good measure. That would never happen.

**#**

**EPOV**

I went through the motions of getting ready for bed, but my mind was elsewhere, my movements robotic.

My first evening with Bella had almost blown my mind. There was a war waging between my mind and my body. Mentally, the evening was comforting. It had been years since I'd just relaxed on an old couch in front of an old movie and stuffed my face with take-out. I hadn't laughed like that or felt as good since before Leah. I felt completely at home in Bella's cozy little living room, with its stacks of novels—even with the slightly creepy cat.

Physically, however, the experience had been a painful ordeal. My body had been hyper-aware of the beautiful woman sitting mere inches away from me. I kept wondering how she might react if I moved over a little, putting us closer together.

If Bella had been anyone else, I would have scooted over like a champ, dropped a few lines that typically had girls dropping their panties, and that would have been that. But every time I thought about it, her words came back to me.

_My track record with guys isn't exactly a great one...most of my friends are engaged to be married, or already married...I've had none of that...it bums me out..._

I could kick myself for thinking such dirty things about my kind, honest hostess. Of course she was looking for a relationship that would go somewhere. How could I proposition her knowing that she would never be satisfied by a one-night stand with me? Or a four-night stand, even. She was too sweet and beautiful for me to screw over, no matter how much I wanted to screw her.

_I don't do relationships. Not anymore._ I could hardly believe that I was having to remind myself of this creed that had literally been my life for the past 4 years. Bella was messing with my head.

Goddammit.

She'd tucked her long, slim legs under her on the couch, relaxed and giggly from the wine. I could easily have reach out and skimmed a hand over one of those smooth legs in those little shorts of hers. Her skin was probably as soft as a baby's ass, too.

God-fucking-dammit.

I'd been hard for the majority of the evening. And thinking about Bella wasn't doing me any favors. I seriously considered just crawling into bed and making my right hand my best friend, but shook the thought away. I couldn't do that with a woman right across the hall.

I finished kicking off my pants, and tossed on a old Pink Floyd t-shirt to wear with my boxer briefs to bed. I typically slept naked, but what if Bella came in here and saw me that way? I wouldn't have minded in the slightest, but she was already so prone to embarrassment and discomfort—I didn't want to make things worse.

Grabbing my toothbrush and toothpaste, I stopped just short of the door, listening carefully to see if Bella was in the bathroom. When silence greeted me, I opened the door and peeked down to the end of the hall.

She was standing in the doorway of the bathroom, a toothbrush sticking out of the corner of her mouth, brushing that magnificent mane of hair with a wide-tooth comb. Her brown locks hung past her shoulder blades in soft waves, the longer portions of it nearly down to her waist. My horny brain was bombarded by visions of me taking her from behind, grabbing that hair roughly.

That's when I realized what she was wearing. You could have called them pajamas, but it was more like a camisole paired with tiny shorts that left little to my imagination—I could see the beginning of her ass-cheek curve where it met those killer legs. She'd already taken off her bra. I could just make out where the green tank top pulled differently against her skin because of her unrestrained breasts.

_Holy fuck. Her nipples are hard._

_Fuck me._

_Fuck brushing my teeth._

My breathing was getting harsh, and I closed the door quietly so that she wouldn't catch me staring. The toothbrush was tossed carelessly into the suitcase. The suitcase was deposited carelessly on the floor. I turned out the light and scrambled into bed, needing to take care of my little problem before I went crazy.

My boxers ended up somewhere down in the cool sheets. I didn't give a fuck. I grabbed my dick, but it was Bella's little hand that stroked me up and down in smooth movements that made my toes flex and my balls tighten.

It didn't take long. In fact, the lead-up to my release was embarrassingly quick. I hadn't come that fast with my own hand since I was a teenager. I lay there, sweaty and exhilarated, my cum dripping out of my fist and onto the sheets.

I was in the middle of cleaning myself up with some tissues on the nightstand when I heard her come back down the hall. I saw two slim shadows under the crack of the door. I held my breath. Those fucking perfect legs. They were still for a moment, and then retreated. The dim light peeking through the crack was extinguished as her door closed with a soft click.

Setting an alarm on my iPhone, I collapsed back onto the bed, throwing my arm over my face.

It was going to be a difficult four nights.

* * *

**A/N:** A million kisses to my beta, Misty. She's the best. :)

Thanks to Twilover76 for recommending this little story in her last update. I'm pretty sure I owe you half my readers. xoxo.

Thanks to everyone who has kept up with me so far, and welcome to my new readers! I hope you continue to enjoy my little experiment. Picture teasers go up on the blog on Tuesdays, and new chapters go up on Fridays. Also, here's a few questions answered (I didn't think there were enough to warrant a new post on the blog):

**Q:** Why didn't I get my teaser for reviewing?

**A:** If you reviewed prior to Thursday night and didn't get your teaser, I do apologize! I try very hard to make sure that everyone gets a sneak peek for the next chapter as soon as I see the review. If you reviewed late on Thursday, then chances are you won't get a teaser, as I post the new chapter the next morning. So if you want your sneak peek, review early!

**Q:** Is Bella a virgin?

**A: **I think this chapter answered that...we'll talk more about it later.

**Q: **How many chapters is this going to be?

**A:** At the moment, I have my timeline/outline going through chapter 14, but am hoping to get it to 25 or 30. We'll see where the mood takes me.

Happy weekend!


	6. Two's Company

**Chapter 5**

* * *

**BPOV**

After tossing and turning most of the night, I finally gave up and got out of bed an hour before my alarm rang. The few moments in which I had captured that elusive rest, I had dreamt of the first moment I'd seen Edward in Starbucks—when he'd been wearing the fuck out of that grey suit.

Troubled by my thoughts about a man who couldn't possibly have any interest in me apart from the fact that I owned a bed he could sleep on, I busied myself by tidying the living room. I did the dishes from the night before, being as quiet as possible. I knew that Edward had those important meetings to attend, and I didn't want to wake him earlier than necessary.

I tinkered around until 6 a.m., then finally settled down to make some coffee. Unlike most people who were lethargic until caffeine consumption, I was always jittery until I'd had my morning coffee. The soothing aroma and bubbling sounds from my little Mr. Coffee maker calmed my nerves considerably, and I went on with making breakfast, silently reveling in the comfort of habit.

Lord Voldemort emerged from his hiding place under the couch, meowing loudly when he heard me getting things out of the fridge. I swear, that cat had a built-in radar for bacon. Rubbing up against my legs, he continued to yowl until I tore off a little piece and threw it down to him. Gobbling it up faster than a dementor sucking away a soul, he purred lightly before sauntering away to do his morning grooming.

I threw the bacon into a hot skillet and began cracking eggs into a bowl for an omelette. I wasn't sure if Edward was a breakfast person, but I set out 2 extra eggs in case he was. Eggs beaten and bacon turned over, I was rummaging in the fridge for that bag of pre-cut mushrooms when I heard a soft gasp, followed by a polite cough. I froze, my ass jutting out in the tiny shorts I'd worn to bed.

"Good morning, Bella."

His voice was rough with sleep, and really fucking sexy. Jolted into action, I raised my head, banging it squarely against the fridge door.

"Fuck!"

The spot I'd hit was throbbing, and I knew I would have a huge bruise within minutes.

"Oh God, Bella, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," Edward rushed to my side. I was standing there like a dumbass, the fridge door still open, my hand pressed to the top of my head. He gently moved me over a few inches to shut the door, then touched my hand lightly. "Are you okay?"

His jawline was directly in my line of vision—in fact, he was standing close enough that I could have moved a few inches and pressed a kiss to his Adam's apple. Covered in short stubble, his jaw was even sexier than it had been yesterday. I had trouble catching my breath, and I knew it had nothing to do with my fridge stunt.

Edward had to have noticed my blatant staring; let's be honest, I'm certain my eyes were a little glazed over at this point, the pain in my head diminishing by the second. But he turned his head away, and opened the freezer. He quickly found a bag of frozen peas and gently grasped my hand. My eyes met his.

"This should help," he said softly. "We wouldn't want you to bruise."

"No," I finally choked out some semblance of conversation. I was definitely distracted. His slightly rough fingers were prying my hand away from the rapidly forming bump, trying to help my clumsy self, and all I could think about was pushing him back onto my tiny kitchen table and having my wanton way with him.

_Kitchen table? Wanton way? What is wrong with me?_

Makeshift ice pack finally in position, he made me sit down while he finished cooking. Luckily the food hadn't burnt during my head-on collision. He began light chit-chat, and eventually we settled into a slightly more comfortable atmosphere.

I desperately tried to ignore the sweat pants that hung low on his hips. I sat with my shoulders a little hunched, trying to hide the fact that I wasn't wearing a bra. I was getting a little nipple-y, and it wasn't from the fucking peas on my head.

Breakfast complete and my bump feeling a little less like an embedded golf ball in my skull, I retreated to my room. I'd offered him the bathroom first, and I was rather proud of the fact that I hadn't drooled at the thought of him in my shower.

This was going to be an interesting three days.

#

Alice picked me up at 7 a.m. to take me to get my truck. My poor baby had been in the shop for the last week. It was an old red Chevy that Charlie had given me when I'd moved from Forks to Southern California to attend Azusa Pacific University. It wasn't really cut out to endure the harsh traffic of Los Angeles, but it was all he had, and I loved it.

But as attached as I was, I knew that my boy was on his last legs. At this point, it was costing too much to repair every few months, and I knew I would just have to buckle down and get a new car. Edward's rent money would certainly help.

It was long overdue. But so much of my paycheck went straight to student loans and to Florida that I hadn't really had much of a choice until now.

Thinking of Florida jarred my stomach, my breakfast now sitting uncomfortably. _I forgot to call her last night. Shit._

Pushing my guilt away, I made myself get out of Alice's Mini and into my once-trusty truck. Maybe I could make him last a few more months.

Alice beat me to the office, as per usual, and greeted me with a huge smile when I walked into the lobby of Healing Hands: Hale, McCarty and Swan. She was our resident receptionist, and even though she was saving up money to go to school for fashion design, I kind of wanted her to stay with us forever. She made the patients feel at home before they even made it back to us PTs.

I repeated the motions I'd gone through since the first day we'd opened Healing Hands. I grabbed my second cup of coffee from our tiny break room, changed into a clean set of blue scrubs kept in the small locker in my office, greeted Jasper, Rose, and Emmett in their respective offices, and headed out to greet my first patient.

Today I was working with Mrs. Cope, an elderly woman struggling with arthritis. The condition had nearly crippled her fingers, to the point where she could barely write her own name. Although Geriatrics was Rose's specialty, hand therapy was mine, which automatically bumped Mrs. Cope onto my patient list.

"Good morning, honeypot," Mrs. Cope smiled at me as I guided her into the main rehabilitation room. We exchanged pleasantries while I helped her out of her sweater and into a chair. Taking the seat opposite her, I started her off with wrist rotations and finger stretches. I was pleased to note that she was now able to speak fluidly while doing the beginning exercises—when she had first come to me five weeks ago, the pain had been so severe that she hadn't been able to talk without harsh breaths during rotations.

By the time she'd told me all about her grandson's first week at summer camp, we'd moved on to the focus of my treatment: Thai hand massage. The movements that had felt so intrusive when I'd first learned them as an undergraduate studying in Thailand for one summer were now familiar and comforting. Beginning at the base of Mrs. Cope's left hand, I rotated her fingers for her, pulling on them slightly until they cracked naturally. Rubbing my thumbs firmly over her palm, I relaxed her hand fully before focusing on her ring finger, with which she had the most trouble. As I bent it gently backwards and forwards, she changed the topic.

"So how are you, dearest?"

I automatically blushed, thinking of how flustered I'd been last night and this morning.

_Oh, I'm just great Mrs. Cope. I have a complete stranger paying me thousands of dollars to stay in my guest bedroom. Did I mention he's fuck-hot? Oh, and this morning before he left for his meetings, I gave him my spare key. That's right, I gave a strange man my only spare. Charlie will kill me if he ever finds out. I basically just threw all his police and self-defense advice out the window._

Though hidden behind extremely thick glasses, her eyes were still sharp; she laughed throatily, heavily, showcasing the evidence of having smoked for too many years. "Did you meet someone?" she asked blatantly.

"No," I answered, focusing my attention on her thumb. I was certain she could see right through my lie, but she didn't press the issue. "Does this hurt?" I asked, massaging lower portion of her thumb where she often experienced horrible pain while attempting to do everyday things, like cooking or writing.

"Ouch!" she gasped, and I decreased the pressure.

"Sorry, Mrs. Cope."

A look crossed her face, not unlike the ones I'd seen Charlie wear when he didn't know I was watching him. "Don't worry, sugar pie. Pain is a part of life."

I was saved from my uncertainty as to how I should respond when Emmett entered with another patient. He got Mr. Leland started on stretches with light weights before hurrying over to greet Mrs. Cope. At first glance, one might think that Emmett was a cage-fighter or something, based on his looks alone—and don't get me wrong, he could certainly hold his own with those muscles of his—but he was really a teddy bear inside. He charmed our patients daily, and Mrs. Cope was no exception.

I let them chat for a bit as I went to heat some water to soak Mrs. Cope's hands in. I tried to concentrate on the task in front of me, but my thoughts kept wandering to the conversation we'd just had.

Mrs. Cope had known I'd met someone...and not just anyone, someone worth blushing and stammering over. Was it that obvious? Was my face so open that it revealed my thoughts?

_What if Edward could read me as easily as Mrs. Cope?_

#

I saw my last patient, a painter whose right hand had been injured in a car crash, at 3 p.m. After that, my afternoon was wide open. Alice caught me pacing in my office, and promptly sent me home to relax. We had plans to go out to a pub later that night, and as she so kindly put it, I needed to "look my best" and not as though I were "sexually frustrated".

Although I was rather certain that the apartment was the _last_ place I could relax and be sexually-un-frustrated, I obeyed and went home after stopping at the grocery store. Edward had proven his healthy appetite on two occasions now, and I hoped he wouldn't think it presumptuous of me that I wanted us to have dinner together again.

Maybe he would even help me cook it. I hated to admit it, since I loathed people doing things for me when I was perfectly capable of doing them myself, but he'd looked so good in my kitchen this morning that I definitely wanted to see him at it again.

Lugging the two brown paper grocery bags up the stairs, I struggled to unlock the door without letting go of my cargo. I somehow managed to get in without dropping anything and set it all down on the small table. Lord Voldemort greeted me with purrs and stretches, but something was off. Just there, over my cat's absurdly loud purring and meowing, I could hear the sound of water running.

Peering down the hall, I realized that the light was on under the bathroom door. The shower was on.

_Holy fuckballs_. Edward was in there, taking a shower. He'd already taken one this morning. Why would he have to take two showers in one day?

My heart sped up, breath catching in my throat. If I'd been eating something, I would have choked. And then died. Because Edward wasn't out here in the hall to give me the Heimlich maneuver. No, no. He was in my shower.

My mind was revolving around a thousand possibilities. _Okay, okay. Let's be logical. Not all guys take showers when they want to jack-off. Shame on you for thinking that! Maybe he spilled something on himself at lunch. Or a bird pooped on him. Or it was really hot during his meeting and he got all sweaty and feels gross and just wants to clean himself, and oh Sweet Baby Jesus, Edward sweaty..._

Caught up in my sudden fantasy, I didn't hear the water turn off until it was too late. Blinded by visions of Edward glistening, I didn't realize the door was opening.

"Bella!"

* * *

**A/N:** Twilight belongs to SM. I own nada.

Thanks so much to everyone who has been recommending my story to their friends and readers! I owe you all so much. :) High fives and chocolates for Team Architectward (my amazing beta and pre-readers). You guys are awesome!

TLG is on the poll over at The Lemonade Stand for Fic of the Week! If you already voted for me, I thank you! However, there was a problem with the poll (looks like everything got erased), so they're asking for us all to recast our votes.

I truly appreciate all your reviews. I try to answer all of them as best I can (with teasers!) xoxo

Just a few things...

**PT:** Physical Therapist

**Geriatrics:** Health care focusing on the elderly.

**Mini:** MINI Cooper! Woot woot! :)

And the most frequent questions I've received during the week:

**Q: **How do 4 days turn into 4 months?

**A:** Keep reading!

**Q: **Who is Leah that Edward mentioned?

**A:** Keep reading!

**Q:** How much longer until Edward and Bella do it?

**A: **Keep reading!

**Q:** Why aren't you finishing "According to Him"?

**A:** I will...eventually. It is currently on hiatus. I completely lost my inspiration, and I'd rather make you wait for something good than give you shit instead.


	7. The Shop Around the Corner

**Chapter 6**

* * *

**EPOV**

I thought about her all day. All fucking day.

It all started when I'd seen her in the kitchen, head immersed in the refrigerator, ass held out in the perfect position for me to grab those curvy hips and...

...yeah.

That image wouldn't leave me alone from the time we finished breakfast until I got into my rented Volvo to drive to my first meeting with James Moore. Luckily for me—and for all the other people on the road—I was always very concentrated and safe behind the wheel. If I hadn't been able to put her out of my head during the drive, I probably would have combusted and caused some ridiculously huge accident.

I could just imagine the headlines. _Freeway pile-up caused by horny executive!_ Dad would love that.

I somehow made it through my meeting without thinking too much about how I wanted to taste Bella's skin, or fist my fingers in her long hair. To be honest, I was a little disturbed at how easily she had imbedded herself in my mind. I'd known her less than twenty-four hours, and I already wanted to fuck her more than I'd ever wanted to fuck any woman. Even Leah.

_Is this what obsession feels like?_

I wasn't sure if Mr. Moore, or the other PFI higher-ups who'd attended the first of our three scheduled gatherings, could tell I was distracted—but regardless, they'd seemed impressed by the presentation I'd put together, which detailed the benefits of them hiring Cullen Construction.

Afterwards, Mr. Moore had taken me out to a late lunch at a famous restaurant, Mille Fleurs, in Rancho Santa Fe. But the expensive haute French cuisine, to which I'd become accustomed after Carlisle's success with Cullen Construction, suddenly seemed too pretentious and, well, the portions were fucking tiny.

My mind kept wandering to the night before, when Bella and I had sprawled on her couch eating massive portions of cheap Thai food.

_What the fuck is happening to me? Why does this lifestyle suddenly seem grandiose and affected?_

I didn't know why, but I was extremely anxious to get back to the apartment after lunch.

I'd known she would be at work, but I was still disappointed to return to an empty home, abandoned save for the fucking cat who tried to pierce my soul with his eyes. Lord Voldemort indeed.

I meandered for a bit in the living room after shrugging out of my black suit jacket. I really should have been prepping for the next meeting—when we would discuss the plans our chief architects had put together for PFI's new offices—but I was more interested in what Bella was reading.

Perusing her shelves and stacks of novels felt remarkably like looking in a bookstore. A well-worn copy of Daphne du Maurier's _Rebecca_ caught my eye, and I pulled if from the bottom of a stack that looked to be mostly stories from the early 1900s.

I'd devoured _Rebecca_ when my mother, Esme, had given it to me when I was twelve. Most kids that age probably wouldn't have had anything to do with literature like that, but I never was like other kids. I still remembered the very first line. Smiling to myself, I cracked open Bella's copy and saw that she had underlined the words in light pencil.

_"Last night I dreamt I went to Manderly again..."_

I closed the book, lost in thought. Who was this girl who had such an unquenchable thirst for the written word? Granted, I couldn't possibly have gotten to know her any better in the few hours we'd spent together, but I was intrigued. And a little scared. Yeah, I wanted to fuck her. I really, really did. But I had questions, too.

Why did she bury herself in these books? Why was she so hard pressed for cash when she was an employed Physical Therapist? She'd claimed school loans were the culprit, and I didn't doubt that part of her story was true. But there was something else to Bella. A mystery.

I turned the book over in my hands, feeling the rough cracks in the spine. _She never did tell me what she learned about me from my handshake..._

I laughed at myself. She and Alice had probably been pulling my leg with that handshake business.

But thinking of Bella's hand in mine brought back the thoughts and urges from earlier in the day. There it was, the image of her tight little ass in those shorts, just begging for my hands. Her endless legs. _Fuck._

I checked my watch. 3:15 p.m. Bella probably wouldn't be home for a while. I glanced down the hall at the shower. _I have time._

I stripped myself of my clothes, leaving them in an unsightly heap on the guest bed. I could have grabbed the travel sized bottle of shower gel from my bag, but because I was a horny bastard, I was already imagining myself using Bella's.

Door closed? Check. In shower? Check. Hot water? Check. Bella's Exotic Coconut shower gel? Double fucking check.

Determined to make myself last longer than the night before, I stroked my thick, hard length slowly with my bare hand for a moment before lunging for her shower gel. It slid against my cock smoothly, and I gripped myself tighter. My left hand was braced against the shower wall, the feeling of the cool tile only a slight distraction from the feelings coursing through my body.

If I didn't know better—which, lets face it, I didn't—I would swear that Bella was deliberately trying to torture me. She seemed so shy most of the time, though. She wouldn't parade around in tiny shorts on purpose, would she? Was she the type of girl to showcase the curve of her ass, and walk around without a bra? _In front of a complete stranger?_

In an instant, I was imagining our breakfast together taking a seriously different course; if I'd only pushed her back against the counter, run my hands up her silky legs, and ripped those little shorts from her body, I could have been buried inside her so deep that she wouldn't have known what hit her.

My hand moved faster, the coconut scent moving up around me. Undiluted, it lent an air of sudden reality: it nearly felt as though Bella was in the shower with me. In minutes, I was undone like a teenage virgin, my cum swiftly drawn down the drain. I couldn't help but grin: that was the nice part about jacking off in the shower. No clean up.

I stood under the shower head for a moment, letting the warm water stream down my body as I came down from my high. My knees were a little wobbly from the force of my orgasm, and I once again wondered what power this woman had over me.

_If I'm this attracted to her now, what am I going to feel like in two days when I have to say goodbye?_

I shook my head, to rid myself of the urges to actually attempt a one-night stand. Turning off the water, I resolved once more to satisfy myself solely with my hands. And maybe some lotion.

_Maybe I'll rub my dick raw. That should solve my problem._

Sweeping her bright yellow shower curtain aside, I stepped out of the tub, automatically reaching for a towel. When all I found was a small hand towel, I remembered that the towel she'd assigned to me earlier that morning had been draped over the guest bedroom door to dry.

I shrugged, and grabbed the soft hand towel anyway, tousling my wet hair with it. As it greedily sucked up the moisture from my hair—_I need a fucking hair cut; this shit is getting too long_—I opened the bathroom door.

I stopped in mid stride, nearly falling over. Bella was standing at the end of the hall, a strange look on her face. I should have registered the possibility that she might have been suffering some sort of trauma from her head-butt with Kenmore; but all I knew was that I was very wet, and very naked, and had just masturbated to thoughts of the person standing in front of me.

"Bella!" I choked out.

"Oh my god! Oh my fucking god!" she screamed, eyes widening in realization. "Edward, _why are you naked_?"

I shoved the towel down in front of me to hide my dick.

Her hands fluttered around her face as she alternated between covering her mouth in horror, and trying to hide her eyes. Her cheeks were deep, dark red; the stamp of mortification. "Where is your towel?"

"I, um...it's in my room. I'm so sorry," I muttered, trying to reach the bedroom door without looking like a moron. The hand towel was clutched in front of me, water droplets still running down my damp chest.

Bella pressed back against the wall, hiding her face. "No, no, I shouldn't have been staring at the bathroom door like a creeper. Oh my god, I'm a creeper..." her voice wavered, and she retreated to the kitchen faster than a bat out of hell.

Snatching the regular sized towel from the door, I wrapped it around my waist as quickly as I could, and followed her. "Bella, wait!" I called.

I found her flitting around the kitchen table, her hair down around her face, hiding her blush. She was trying to put some groceries away, but she was shaking too badly. A plastic bag dropped from her hands—the only part of her that was deathly white—apples rolling over the floor. She scrambled to pick them up, falling to her knees, the scattered Red Delicious matching her face.

"Bella, Bella," I gently touched her arm. She stilled slightly, but her breath was as tremulous as her hands. "There's no need to be embarrassed. It's my fault. I didn't know what time you'd be home, but I should have taken my towel with me anyway. It won't happen again."

"I saw you naked."

"I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been acting as though I were in my own home. Forgive me?" My left hand securely holding the towel around my waist, I extended my right toward her.

She stared at my hand for a moment, the blush slowly lessening. Grasping my hand, she let me pull her up off the floor.

"Forgiven."

Looking to move past our embarrassing encounter as quickly as possible, I gestured toward the grocery bags. "What's for dinner?"

"Um. Tacos?" She was fiddling with her purchases again, eyes downcast.

Suddenly curious, I had to bite back my question. _Has she never seen a naked man before, or something?_

"Tacos sound great."

* * *

**A/N: **I don't own _Rebecca_. But I do believe that everyone should read it (or at least watch the film with Laurence Olivier and Joan Fontaine).

Sorry for the late update! Real life, and all that. Thanks to Team Architectward for getting this back to me on such short notice! You guys are awesome. :) Hugs to everyone who has followed, favorited, and most of all, reviewed. It all means so much to me! Thank you.

Just in case somebody doesn't know:

**Kenmore:** A refrigerator brand

**Red Delicious:** A type of red apple

If you want to be aware of future late postings, picture teasers, and so on, I recommend friending me on Facebook, or following my Twitter. Info is in my profile.

As always, reviewers get teasers in my reply. :) Bonus: if anyone can guess the significance of the chapter title "The Shop Around the Corner", you get an extra teaser!

Where do we go from here? Well, several reviewers picked up on the fact that Alice and Bella will be going out to a pub for drinks. Guess who'll be joining them? Also, don't worry: the UST will be resolved...soon-ish. This may prove to be a slow burn for some readers.

Thanks for reading! xoxo.


	8. Walk This Way

**Chapter 7**

* * *

**BPOV**

After what was possibly the most horrifying moment of my short life, Edward went to his room to get dressed. I took the time apart to compose my rapid heartbeat, my harsh high color, and my ragged respiration.

After breathing deeply for a count of thirty, I drank half a glass of cold water, and then returned to the groceries. As I gathered the fallen apples, I found myself mentally quoting Austen.

_"She was vexed beyond what could have been expressed—almost beyond what she could conceal. Never had she felt so agitated, so mortified, grieved, at any circumstance in her life. She was most forcibly struck."_

"Yeah, no kidding. Thanks a lot, Jane," I muttered under my breath. I knew fully well that the words were meant to express Emma's emotions at a completely different turn of events, but it summed up my feelings pretty damn accurately.

Pushing all thoughts of naked Edward from my mind, I busied myself. Keeping my hands occupied was one of the many ways I had found to cope with nervousness, shyness, and embarrassment. I think I was like Renee in that way. Not the Renee I knew now, but the woman from my childhood.

Thinking of my mother, I sighed. _Tonight. I have to call tonight._

I set out the ingredients that didn't need to be refrigerated, and put the remainder of the food away. It was still too early to eat dinner, I noted as I glanced at the clock on the microwave. The rolling in my stomach wasn't hunger, but unease.

I cautiously moved down the hall to my room, relaxing slightly when I saw that his door was closed. I closed my own door behind me, and took some more deep breaths. I quickly became engrossed in deciding what to wear to Dublin Square.

Although I was never terribly interested in what I wore during the day—as long as it fit, was clean, and didn't have holes, right?—I did tend to get a little more on the girly side whenever we went out. These were the few times when I actually felt my age, and I figured I might as well dress the part.

I pondered the contents of my closet. The Dublin Square Irish Pub was a more relaxed atmosphere; jeans and a nice blouse would have sufficed. But I kept looking at one of the dresses Alice had given me for my last birthday. It was a one-shoulder, teal dress that was dressier than jeans, but not night-club dressy. I pulled it toward me, holding the fabric up to my face. Teal looked good on me.

_...would Edward like it?_

Arggh! I shoved the thought away. Edward wouldn't care what I wore. He wasn't even coming with us.

_Unless..._

I tried the dress on, to make sure that it fit, my mind revolving quickly. Edward had mentioned at some point yesterday that this was his first trip to San Diego. And what would he do here in the apartment, all alone with Voldy, while we went out?

_I should invite him._

I looked at myself in the mirror. What if he said no?

It wouldn't hurt to ask him, at least, I rationalized. Besides, what did I care if he said yes or no? I was just being a good hostess.

Later that evening, we ate tacos without the thought of Edward being naked crossing my mind once.

Why? Because he was dressed in a pair of low-slung jeans and a grey t-shirt. Not only could Edward Cullen wear the fuck out of a suit, he could wear a pair of jeans better than anyone I'd ever seen.

We kept conversation light, and it was obvious that he was trying to be cheerful, to make up for our embarrassing moment earlier. I nearly thanked him for his thoughtfulness and tact, but that would have required bringing up the incident, which I was loathe to do.

When I asked him if he wanted to come for drinks with us, he immediately agreed. I wasn't sure if that was good or bad, but I did know that I wanted to watch him in that pair of jeans for the rest of the evening.

I took more care with my make-up than usual. I typically didn't wear anything, but I chose light neutral colors to make my dark lashes stand out. I'd been told (by Alice) that they were one of my best features, and that if I darkened them just right my eyes would 'pop'. I'd also been told (by Alice) that my hair looked best down, and that my legs were killer in heels. So even though I tended to shun anything higher than one inch, I found myself strapping on a pair of 3 inch silver heels that I'd worn to a wedding once.

_Why do I care so much what I look like in front of Edward?_

I tried to be nonchalant while Edward and I waited to be picked up. Emmett had named himself designated driver, and was coming to fetch us in his ridiculously huge gas guzzling SUV. As we stood outside the front gate of the apartment complex, I focused on not locking my knees. Fainting was the last thing I wanted to happen tonight.

I was also trying really fucking hard not to stare at Edward. He'd changed from his t-shirt to a tight white button-down—sleeves rolled up enough to expose his strong forearms—but kept the jeans. My god, the jeans. The man was practically oozing sex. It was a miracle I hadn't fainted from the sexual tension alone.

If Edward felt anything, he didn't show it...although I did catch him staring at my legs.

More than once.

#

**EPOV**

I was never so relieved as when Bella's friends pulled in a large black SUV. I really needed to sit down. Sitting down would help hide my boner.

If I thought I was attracted to Bella before, it was exponentially multiplied right now, at this moment, with her endless legs tempting me, and her smoky eyes, and her pale skin, and her long loose hair...

I kind of wanted to go caveman on her, and rip that little blue dress right off her. But that might not go over too well in a public place. Besides, I had already decided to back off, hadn't I?

"Hey, you must be Edward!" a voice boomed when Bella pulled open the backseat door closest to us. I waved into the dark interior as Bella ushered me into the car. Acquaintances were made all around; at least, on their part. They all seemed to know who I was, and were watching me with eerily knowing glances.

The loud guy was Emmett, our DD for the night. He looked like he could easily take me in a fight, and I made a mental note to stay on his good side, should I happen to run into him again during my stay. Alice was quick to introduce me to her fiancé, Jasper, who was obviously the quiet one. I had a feeling that he and Bella got along extremely well.

The last woman in the car was Rosalie, Emmett's girlfriend. She was seated in the passenger seat, and was also quiet—but it was a different quiet than Jasper's. It was somehow menacing, and I nearly covered my dick in a primal gut reaction. I found myself praying to whatever deity would listen that Bella wouldn't tell Rosalie about my accidental naked interlude in the hallway.

Dublin Square wasn't too far from Bella's apartment, and before I knew it we were in and seated at an oversized booth near the bar. When I looked up at the ceiling, I saw the green, white, and orange colors of Ireland's flag painted there; a huge Union Jack was hung behind the bar. Everyone at our table ordered Guinness, and I followed suit. No harm in trying to fit in.

I absorbed the ambiance of the Irish pub, finding it reminiscent of a place I'd frequented during my undergraduate years. Those were the days before Eleazar had me drinking things like Scotch at ritzy nightclubs, where the cover fee was $100 and the women were dripping with jewelry as they hung off the arms of executives. Executives like me.

I sighed after taking my first long sip of beer. This was so much more comfortable. This was something that had been missing.

As Bella began chatting with the girls, Emmett elbowed me in my side. "So Alice says you're some high up with Cullen Construction?"

"Yes. My father owns the company."

"Damn. Nepotism?"

I nearly choked on my Guinness. The people in our circles in Chicago never dared mention that my father had given his sons two of the company's highest available positions.

"I guess you could say that," I agreed. Emmett's candor was refreshing—a complete 180 from the men I'd been dealing with earlier in the day, who bartered with jargon and wallets seeping with cash.

I was about to make a comment about how Eleazar got his job when Jasper began chuckling. I followed his gaze to a group of people at the bar who were dressed in resplendent, colorful costumes. "Who are they supposed to be?" I asked, assuming that they were part of the Comic Con thing I'd been hearing so much about.

"The Avengers, bro!" Jasper said. He pointed out the specific characters to me; his narration was punctuated with shock at the fact that I hadn't seen the summer blockbuster _or_ read the comic books _or_ watched the animated TV show.

He proceeded to give a lecture about superheroes, and I realized that I'd unwittingly triggered what was probably one of the few subjects that got Jasper talking. That, and the nearly empty mug of beer. Emmett was already on his second drink, and was engrossed in Jasper's words.

I was trying my best to pay attention—really, I was...these guys were being nice to me and they were a great change from the people I was typically surrounded by—but I couldn't help but notice that someone's eyes were heavy on my neck, my mouth, my hands. One glance confirmed that Bella was staring at me from across the booth.

At first, it kind of bothered me. I knew that look. I'd seen it on a thousand female faces. And the fact that it was coming from Bella was just arousing me more, and I really wasn't okay with sporting a boner while talking comics with two other men.

But she just didn't stop. Sure, she shifted from openly staring to being subtle, but she wouldn't stop looking. And after 2 more beers, I didn't care. I started staring back. And because I'm a ridiculously horny, stereotypical, heterosexual man, I couldn't help but wonder if she was thinking about my cock. She had to have seen it. There was no way she could have missed it.

She was downing Guinness like a champ, drinking far more than Alice or Rosalie. It didn't seem to affect her as quickly as the wine had the night before, but soon enough, she was laughing loudly and her glances became less and less innocent.

Around midnight, the atmosphere of the pub began to change. The people who had been eating and drinking at tables moved closer to the bar, dancing and swaying to the music emanating from the loudspeakers. My ears perked up when I heard Aerosmith's "Walk this Way", and before I knew what I was doing, I'd reached across the table and grasped Bella's hand.

"Let's dance."

She looked surprised, but smiled, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink. She scrambled to get past Alice, who was smirking at me.

Steven Tyler was belting out the lyrics as I swung Bella onto the dance floor. Our hands were joined, the longest we'd touched since our initial handshake.

_Seesaw swingin' with the boys in the school,_

_And your feet flyin' up in the air,_

_Singin' "hey diddle diddle,"_

_With your kitty in the middle of the swing_

_Like you didn't care._

_So I took a big chance at the high school dance_

_With a missy who was ready to play._

_Wasn't me she was foolin'_

_'Cause she knew what she was doin',_

_And I knowed love was here to stay_

_When she told me to_

_Walk this way!_

_Just gimme a kiss,_

_Like this!_

Bella was laughing. I laughed too, although I didn't know why. I spun her around, and she stumbled into me. Righting her quickly, I twirled with her, letting my feet do the steps; I was more focused on the woman in my arms.

"What's funny?" I asked.

"I don't dance."

I smiled. "You're dancing now."

Bella grinned in delight. "I guess I am! I usually don't do this."

I let myself pull her closer to my chest. One hand slipped down to her waist as we moved, our bodies and feet subconsciously moving us to the rhythm of the song. She inhaled sharply when my thumb brushed the lower portion of her ribcage, and for a minute, I thought maybe I'd gone too far.

But then Bella looked up at me. Her eyes were wide and full of want, her full lips slightly parted, her body impossibly warm where we were touching.

And with Steven's voice pounding in my ears, telling me to just kiss her, I knew one thing:

_I'm so fucked._

* * *

**A/N: **I don't own _Emma_ or "Walk This Way." But I dearly love Austen and Aerosmith. And, as always, SM owns Twilight.

So much thanks to Team Architectward! I owe you guys. :)

I appreciate everyone's reviews, favorites, follows, etc.! You have no idea! You're all so amazing. I'm lucky to have such awesome readers. I love hearing your theories about where the story is going! Keep 'em coming!

So Edward wants to kiss her, hm? What think ye?

And before I wrap up...

**Q:** Is that restaurant real?

**A:** Yes, the restaurant mentioned in the previous chapter is a real place near San Diego. The Dublin Square Irish Pub is also a real place. :)

**Q:** Have you ever attended Comic Con?

**A: **Sadly, no.

If you want to see what Bella's teal dress looks like, check out my blog! Info in my profile. Until next week, darlings!


	9. It Started with a Kiss

**Chapter 8**

* * *

**BPOV**

_I'm so fucked._

Edward was dancing with me, and I'd never been more attracted to anyone in my entire life.

He was staring down at my lips, and I automatically moistened them with the tip of my tongue.

_Did his pupils just dilate?_

If I didn't know better, I'd think that Edward was just as drawn to me as I was to him—after all, he hadn't stopped looking at me all evening, those bright green eyes making something coil deep in my belly.

Maybe it was just the beer.

I took a breath, trying to clear my muddy head. I'd already had far too much to drink, and it was even harder to think with Aerosmith blasting in my ear and Edward's warm hands on my body.

"I'm really drunk," I whispered softly.

He didn't reply at first, but I know he understood what I'd said. He might not have heard me over the music, but his eyes were glued to my face.

"Let's get out of here?"

In spite of my intoxication, it didn't escape my notice that he posed it as a question, and not a statement. I nodded, not entirely sure why he would want to leave—all I knew was that I wasn't ready to stop touching him. But lying down on my couch sounded really good right now. I had really had too much Guinness.

Edward wanted to go home. My couch was at home. I wanted to be with Edward. Win, win, win.

He led me off the dance floor, which was really just whatever space wasn't occupied by tables or other customers. We stopped by the booth to grab my purse and alert Emmett that we didn't need him to drive us home.

Alice was resting her head on Jasper's shoulder, and I wasn't sure if she was passed out, or simply tired. I was about to ask when Rose grabbed my arm and pulled me down to her level.

"Bella...please be careful with this guy," she murmured in my ear.

I moved my head away from hers and studied her face. It was full of concern, and my heart melted just a little. Rosalie was always so brusque and judgmental with those she didn't know, but she never failed to look out for her friends.

"I'll be fine," I said, to placate her worry. I wasn't about to tell her that the chances of Edward and I actually doing anything were slim—not with the man in question standing just inches away exchanging goodbyes with her boyfriend.

Edward left some money with Emmett to help settle the bill, and we stumbled out of Dublin Square.

All right, I stumbled, and Edward helped keep me from running into anything. Every time I nearly fell, I giggled. I knew it wasn't funny, but I couldn't help it. I hadn't been this drunk in a long time. I also hadn't been in such close physical contact with a man who wasn't a PT client in a very long time.

His touch was more intoxicating than Ireland's finest. If I'd known I'd be so addicted to Edward's skin, I never would have let go of his hand the first day I'd met him.

The thought of a non-stop handshake was hilarious to my drunk brain, and I laughed even harder. Edward chuckled in reply as he stopped us at the curb and hailed a taxi.

"What's so funny?"

"I don't know," I said. "Oh, that was good."

"What was good?" he glanced down at me.

"I was able to lie under the influence of alcohol."

"Interesting. But then you told me you lied. So is it still a successful lie if you admitted to lying?"

"But you don't know what I lied about."

Just then, a cab pulled up and Edward opened the door for me. We fell into the car, and I gave the driver my address.

I was having a ridiculously difficult time fastening my seat belt, and Edward had to do it for me. "Why am I more drunk than you?" I asked, staring at his neck while he reached across me for the buckle.

"Because you drank more than me and because you're small and slim. And because I'm more badass than you," his face was serious, but his tone was teasing.

"So you think I'm small and slim?" I asked, too far gone to withhold any verbal diarrhea.

"Is this a trick question? Like when a woman asks 'Do I look fat in these jeans?' or 'How old do you think I am?' I'm not falling for that," he smiled.

I giggled, half turning toward him, stopping when the seatbelt wouldn't let me go any further. His body was already angled toward mine, as though we were magnetized.

"Aha! Avoiding the question. So you were looking at me." I gave a curt nod, the alcohol in my system making me brave.

The streetlights cast quickly moving shadows over Edward's handsome features, but I could see the shift in expression. The lightness and laughter were gone, replaced by the look he'd had when he'd been staring at my lips on the dance floor.

His eyes were dark and hungry. And so help me, my ovaries were responding well to his eyes. They knew the baby-making look when they saw it.

"Of course I was looking at you. So were half the men in the pub. Bella, you...you're—"

"I'm what?" I asked impatiently, my gaze wandering to his Adam's apple, his mouth, his jaw line. A minuscule, faint trail of sweat traced down his neck, disappearing into his shirt. I wanted to follow it with my tongue.

The air in the cab seemed to disappear as Edward's face got closer to mine. My heart was beating so fast that I thought I might explode.

He might have been out of my league—unattainable for a girl like me—but there was no doubt, even in my intoxicated state, about what was coming next. Everything I'd promised myself the night before, about not trying anything with him, went right out the window, dissipating in the San Diego night.

"You're beautiful," he finally murmured, his voice lowered, rough and sexy.

_Jesus Christ Monkey-balls._

I swallowed thickly, and moved before I lost my Guinness-induced nerve. Edward moved at the same time, and our lips crashed together over the middle seat. His hands reached up to cup my face. His lips were hot and wet against mine, and I tasted beer and a sweetness that was just him. I tilted my face against his, opening my mouth in invitation.

As his tongue swept across mine and triggered a reaction down there, it briefly occurred to me that this was a bad idea.

I shoved that thought right out the window when I threw my arms around his neck.

Edward Cullen was kissing me back like I never could have possibly imagined. His artist's hands shifted from my face to my neck, cradling and coveting at the same time. Each rough fingertip against my skin made me tremble with need.

He pulled away to breath, his eyes boring deep into my mine. His nose brushed mine, and he kissed the corner of my mouth. His lips stayed there, and he gave a whispered mumble against my overly sensitive skin—I felt each word more than I heard them.

"What are we doing?"

I meant to answer. I really did. But the world was suddenly getting smaller, and everything was fuzzy. One last thought crossed my mind before everything went dark.

_Yup. Totally fucked._

* * *

**A/N:** Before you all freak out...no, she didn't pass out because Edward is such an amazing kisser. Geez. She's had too much to drink.

I hope waiting out the UST was worth it! I absolutely loved writing this chapter, and look forward to developing their *coughphysicalcough* relationship. ;)

I appreciate your reviews and feedback more than I can express. I love you all! I hope all you reviewers have been getting the teasers I sent you. :)

Sooo many hugs and thanks to my beta and pre-readers. Team Architectward, you rock!

One kind reviewer pointed out that in the last chapter, I mentioned both an Irish flag and a Union Jack present in Dublin Square. This may have struck some of you as odd. Honestly, I don't know about the decor of Dublin Square, never having been there myself. But I imagined it to look the way I remember the one Irish Pub I ever visited, which was in the middle of nowhere, Ohio. There, they had both flags present. I guess it kind of depends on the ideas of the proprietors. At any rate, I hope it wasn't confusing for anyone.

Just a quick word regarding next week's update: I can't guarantee that it will be posted on Friday, as I will be on my way back from Thanksgiving break. I'm flying from California to Idaho to visit my grandmother at her rest home, and my return flight is scheduled for Friday morning. Worst case scenario, it will be posted Sunday or Monday, and you'll just get two updates that week.

Until next time!


	10. Thank You For Smoking

**Chapter 9**

* * *

**EPOV**

I sighed. If there had been sweat on my forehead, right now would have been the cliche moment where I'd reach up and wipe it off with a resigned look on my face.

There was no sweat, but there was a small measure of resignation.

If there was anything I hated, it was helping someone into bed. There were far too many memories of Leah coming home drunk and stoned, practically crawling through the door because she couldn't stand up straight. She'd puked on me more times than I could count. At the time, I'd done my boyfriendly duty, cleaned her up without a fuss, bathed her, tucked her into bed, and waited for the hangover to hit. I'd been there whenever she finally awoke, in a stupor from coming off the drugs, her head pounding. I'd fixed her favorite hangover food and provided Tylenol and reassurance whenever she needed it.

I'd told myself I'd never do that again for another person as long as I lived; not after what Leah had done to me.

And yet, here I was, having just carried Bella up the stairs to the apartment. I'd laid her on her bed, and was debating whether or not to take her clothes off, tuck her in, try to wake her, wash her face...what?

_Take her clothes off_, my inner perv whispered. Considering that kiss we'd just shared in the cab, it seemed like a logical choice. But then again, she was completely passed out. She'd woken up for a split second while I was paying the cab fare—for the express reason of throwing up into the bushes—but that was it. Her cheeks were still red from the alcohol running through her system, but she looked so peaceful.

I fingered the edge of her little blue dress, oh so tempted to peek underneath. But she deserved better than that, so I simply pulled her blanket over her immobile form. I glanced around the room and found a trashcan tucked away under her tiny desk. I pulled it over next to the bed, just in case. And then I watched her for a moment. Just stared.

Her chest rose and fell slowly. She was so fucking gorgeous...but then I blinked, and all I could see was Leah, all those years ago, on our tiny bed in our tiny apartment. Bella's brown hair was suddenly Leah's black mane. I used to tease her about that hair, tell her she looked like Pocahontas. She would smile and call me John Smith.

But that was back when we were happy. Before she started fucking her life up. Before she fucked _my_ life up.

I heaved a shuddering breath. I hadn't thought this much about Leah in several months. And Bella didn't deserve to have her face sullied by that bitch's memory.

I blinked, and Bella was back to being Bella. She shifted a little in her sleep, a hand pressed against her red cheek. But then it was Leah's hand and Leah's tanned face, and I was sick to my stomach.

I backed out of the room, hoping it might dispel Leah's form from my mind. It didn't work.

I stumbled to my room. I lunged for the suitcase, my hands searching for it before my mind could even catch up.

Throwing out all the contents, I felt along in the lining. "It has to be here," I mumbled. It had been a year, or maybe even more, but I remembered. My fingers finally brushed against a hard rectangular lump, and I pulled the platinum cigarette case from its hiding place.

The case had been a gift from my father just after my high school graduation. He'd caught me smoking, and instead of punishing me or chastising me for ruining my health, he'd bought me a platinum case. No son of his was going to smoke cigarettes from a flimsy box. No, no. Platinum was how Carlisle Cullen did things now.

I'd smoked from age seventeen until I the day I found Leah in bed with my best friend. I was twenty-four. It was my birthday.

I'd quit cold turkey, but still kept the case. It had been full of brand new cigarettes, and I wasn't about to throw them away. So they'd remained hidden in the lining of my trusty suitcase, and every now and then when the stress was mounting, I'd have one. Just one. Did it count as a relapse if I just smoked one?

I pried the case open. There were two left. My hands were shaking as my mind overflowed with images of Leah stumbling to the bathroom to throw up again, of her lithe body wrapped around another man's form, of her long fingers trembling as she snorted the last of her cocaine.

And then I was in the kitchen, searching for a lighter. When I couldn't find one, I turned on the nearest gas burner on the stove, and lit up there. I took a long drag, savoring every bit. The first inhale was always the best. I let the smoke linger in my body as long as I could before expelling it.

Slowly, I felt my nerves begin to lessen, and the memories of Leah didn't sting as badly. But of course they didn't vanish, because my mind liked to fuck with me.

I made my way to the sliding glass door and let myself out into the night. I didn't know what Bella's thoughts on smoking were, but I doubted she'd appreciate me stinking up her apartment. I sat down on the little bench she had there, and took another long drag. I almost choked when I felt something brush against my leg, and I coughed harshly, smoke billowing from my mouth like I was a fucking smoke-stack or something.

_"Mwrowr."_

I looked down to find Lord Voldemort sitting primly by my leg. He turned his scary yellow eyes on me, and gave another scratchy meow. His eyes creeped me the fuck out, but he didn't have any teeth showing or any claws extended, so I let the cigarette hang from my lips and gave him a tentative scratch behind the ears.

He started purring, and I laughed under my breath.

_Never thought I'd ever have the words "Voldemort" and "purring" in the same scenario._

I don't know how long I sat out there with Voldy and my second to last cigarette, but when the first was almost gone, I pulled the last from the case and held them up end to end. It had been years since I'd needed to light one cig from another, but it was kind of like riding a bike.

_Once a smoker, always a smoker._

That's what my mother had said when I'd first mentioned that I'd quit. I'd been upset, thinking that she wasn't being supportive. Later, I realized she was only saying it from experience.

My last cigarette finally caught, and as I stubbed out the nearly dead one, I studied the orange glow. Soon, after enough drags, this one would be dead, too.

_This is my last one._

Determined to prove my mother's words wrong, I enjoyed the cigarette as much as I possibly could, knowing it would be the last time. I closed my eyes and felt the nicotine moving through me.

_Last one. I swear._ The case was empty now.

I wondered if Bella had ever smoked. I rather hoped she hadn't. It would make her different from Leah.

I nearly crushed the delicate cig in my grip at that thought.

"But she's nothing like Leah, right?" I whispered to Voldy. "Not even close."

* * *

**A/N: **Thank you so much for reading. xoxo.

Those of you who've seen my blog know why the update is late. I thank you so much for your patience and words of encouragement. It all means so much. :) I'm hoping to post chapter 10 on Friday or Saturday. The week after that should be on schedule (Friday the 7th), but the following week is finals for me. I won't be posting a chapter on the 14th, but I will post an extra teaser on the blog. Fair warning. :]

I apologize for not getting out the text teasers to the reviewers of the last chapter. It was kind of out of my hands. But trust me, I read and loved every single one. Your reviews keep me going! You'll get teasers this week, I promise. :)

Thank you so much to my beta (edwardrocksmysocks) and my prereaders (Tinsley Warren, Fanfic Maplestyle, and Jenny)! I couldn't do this without you guys.

Just a note on the character of Leah. I've been getting a lot of questions about her; even though we learned a little more in this chapter, there's still a lot left to discover. I don't want to give too much away, but I think that Jenny summed it up pretty well. "Still trying to wrap my brain around the whole Leah thing. She was a user and not just drugs, but a user of people as well." You hit the nail on the head, Jenny. :) Leah is indeed a bad egg, and you'll see why soon enough.


	11. The Hangover

**Chapter 10**

* * *

**BPOV**

Have you ever been in the middle of a dream, but known that it wasn't real? Aware that the images you're seeing are a product of a fanciful mind, a wish, a fantasy? And as you realize this, you struggle to stay dreaming. You don't want it to end, and you grasp at the tail ends of the fleeting reverie...only to be plunged into the reality of being awake.

It's an infuriating feeling.

This was how I found myself as wakefulness poked at my eyelids, trying to rouse me. I struggled to sink back into sleep. It was perfection—the best dream I'd ever had. And it starred Edward.

I knew it hadn't actually happened this way, but I wished more than anything that my dream were real. Instead of everything going dark after my steamy kiss with Edward in the back of the taxi, my dream took a radically different turn...

_As Edward gripped my head between his hands and ravaged my lips, the cabby growled at us. "Get a room, you pervy kids!"_

_Edward pulled away, and I moaned at the loss of contact. My mouth tingled and my chest heaved as I regained my breath. "I plan on it," he grouched back at the cab driver, his voice low and sultry. His hands curled into claws against my arms, my neck, and slowly moved down possessively to my waist._

_And then we were no longer in the taxi, but standing up just outside it. We were wearing different clothes—was that a trench coat buckled around Edward's waist?—and it was dark and rainy. The moisture seeped into my hair and my lungs and my skin as I nipped and suckled at Edward's Adam's apple. With a grunt, he pushed me back against the car, trapping me. Every inch of him was pressed to my body, and I could feel the outline of his cock against my left leg. As his mouth attacked mine, I writhed against him, eager for friction. He wasn't close enough! There were too many clothes. I needed to feel him naked. It didn't matter that it was raining. I would let him take me on the hood of the taxi cab if he wanted to._

_His tongue stroked mine, and as his hand roughly grabbed my breast—_

I couldn't hold on to the fantasy any more, and I was nearly in tears as it slipped away from me. A gut-wrenching feeling took a hold of my stomach, and before I knew it, the urge to throw up crept upon me.

I sat straight up in bed, and immediately regretted my action. Nausea reigned, and I laid back down, willing my stomach to settle itself. I hated throwing up more than anything. I curled into a ball on my side, realizing that the piercing sunlight and ache I felt were not intrusive because they had pulled me out of my dream world.

_Hangover. Fuck me._

I hadn't had one of these since I was a Sophomore in college. One bad experience, and I'd sworn that I'd never do that again. I must have forgotten to eat and drink enough water last night.

Not surprising, considering I'd been so distracted by Edward. I pulled the blanket over my face, envisioning the worst case scenarios.

_I probably made a complete fool of myself. I can't dance any better than a dog can. I probably stepped on his feet and looked like an idiot. The kiss was probably gross for him. I was probably sloppy and tasted bad...oh my fucking God._

I sighed and tried to clear my head. Thinking about last night wasn't going to help me any. Besides, all the arousal that had permeated my dream was now dissipated thanks to my pounding head. But at least the need to throw up was slowly passing.

After a few moments of lying completely still, I cracked my eyes open to survey the damage. The light in my room was bright, but a glance at the clock confirmed that it was still very early in the morning. I had plenty of time to pull myself together and get ready for work.

_Just don't think about kissing Edward. Just don't think about kissing Edward._

I sat up again, slowly this time to avoid another painful head rush. As I looked down at my dress, I realized that I didn't remember getting into bed. "Edward put me here," I croaked aloud, sounding like a tone-deaf frog. Pushing the blanket off, I crawled out of bed, just narrowly missing the trashcan. Some part of me wanted to gush that Edward was so sweet for putting it there, but I had such a sudden urge to pee that I promptly forgot.

I made it to the bathroom in one piece, did my business, and rinsed out my mouth. I wasn't ready to brush my teeth yet, afraid that my gag reflex from a proper morning cleaning—yes, I'm the girl who also brushes her tongue—would again engage the vomit that had so obviously happened last night. I didn't remember it, but the sour, vile taste in my mouth told me everything.

After finding the pain relievers in the medicine cabinet, I popped two with a glass of water. I slowly made my way back to my room and changed into a pair of respectable looking jeans and a Beatles t-shirt. The thought of a shower crossed my mind, but I knew that hangover food was a necessity right now if I wanted to make it to work. The shower would have to wait. I ran a brush through my hair, wincing as I carefully fought with tangles. My head pounded with every pass of the brush, and I cursed the day I discovered my love of beer.

Moving slowly toward the kitchen, my highly sensitized ears picked up on meows and dishes moving against each other. As I emerged from the hallway, my eyebrows shot up faster than a bobcat with a burr under his tail.

Edward had his back to me, his hands plunged deep into the sink. _Is he...doing dishes?_ I couldn't dwell too long on his activity once I realized that he was shirtless. As his hands and arms moved, I watched the muscles ripple across his back, and a whimper nearly escaped me.

"Good morning, Bella," he said softly, glancing over his shoulder at me. I nearly bit my tongue in surprise. _Did I moan out loud?_

His face was serious as he quickly dried his hands off and grabbed a shirt hanging over the back of one of my dinette chairs.

I probably could have sat down or gotten myself a glass of orange juice, but I stood there like a dunce, staring. My poor body was conflicted. It was difficult to be attracted to something when you had a headache the size of Texas. But when Edward raised his arms to pull the shirt over his head, his abs were practically begging for me to lick them.

But then Led Zepplin covered them up, and the spell was broken. I gave a shuddering breath as another sharp pain stabbed through my head.

"I wasn't being too loud, was I?" Edward asked as he pulled out a chair for me. His voice was just the right octave, but the scrape of the chair against the floor made me grimace. I shook my head carefully.

"You're fine."

"I wasn't sure what kind of hangover food you liked, so I made a ton," he said, gesturing behind him. He looked a little nervous under the solemn exterior, and I wondered if he was trying just as hard as I was to not think about what happened in the taxi.

I sniffed the air, instantly detecting coffee. "Um...can I have the coffee first?" I whispered.

"Yeah, yeah," he quickly poured me a cup, but I held my hand out before he could add creamer.

"Just black this morning," I muttered. "I haven't had a hangover like this in ages."

He set the steaming cup down in front of me, and I eagerly took a sip. The hot liquid burned my tongue, but I didn't care. Coffee was my old friend for more than one reason.

"So, what will you have?" Edward was hovering, and while I normally would have enjoyed the attention, the very clothes on my back were adding to the discomfort pummeling my head. His very nearness made me ache, and not in a good way.

I glanced at the food he'd laid out on the counter. I spotted toast, banana pancakes, a Bloody Mary, scrambled eggs, and what looked like... "Is that my left over mac and cheese?" I pointed.

He smiled. "Yeah. I found that in the fridge, and it's my favorite hangover food. The rest I made myself...and I didn't burn anything."

"Good job," I tried to smile, but I had a feeling it looked more like a scowl. The muscles in my face hurt almost as much as my head.

"Can I just have some toast and scrambled eggs?" I took another gulp of coffee as Lord Voldemort jumped up into my lap. He began to knead his paws on my leg, and I hissed.

Edward immediately brought the plates over, as well as the pancakes for himself. "Thanks for doing this," I said as I dug into the food. I didn't really have an appetite, but I knew that I needed to eat if I wanted to be any good to my patients today.

"It's really the least I could do, Bella," Edward looked at me over a forkful of bananas. "You've taken me into your home like this...fed me, introduced me to your friends. I'm having a really good time. And I'm sorry you're hung over."

"It's okay," I swallowed my mouthful of food, already feeling a tad better than I had when I'd first woken up. "It's my own fault."

I didn't mention that he was paying me two grand for all of that hospitality.

We finished the rest of our food in silence, with only the scrape of our forks against our plates and Voldy's purrs filling the void. More than once, I felt his eyes on me, but I just couldn't look up.

_Just don't think about kissing Edward. Just don't think about kissing Edward._

I wasn't sure if his new pensive mood was because he, too, was feeling the effects of last night's alcohol, or if he was simply being sensitive to my own condition. I didn't have the courage to ask.

When all I had left was a quarter of a cup of coffee, he finally broke the quiet.

"Listen, Bella. This probably isn't a good time to bring this up, with your hangover and everything, but..."

My hands curled compulsively around the mug. "But what?"

"Like I said, I'm really very grateful to you. Most sensible women wouldn't have trusted a stranger, no matter how much money he offered them. You really did pull me out of a pinch, and I'm having a wonderful time—"

"You already said that," my tone was curt, and too loud for my own ears.

He stared down at his empty plate, and I suddenly didn't recognize this Edward. Where was the confident businessman with the firm handshake, witty remarks, and laid back nonchalance?

"Last night was great, but I can't kiss you again."

The words fell out of his mouth so quickly that I almost didn't catch them. Something clenched at my heart, but instead of dwelling on a feeling that I didn't understand, my temper flared.

"Who said I wanted you to?" The words were a lie as they came from my lips, but I couldn't take them back now.

Surprise registered on his face, with what looked like a little bit of hurt, but my insides were burning with a mixture that had nothing to do with my hangover. Before I could take stock of my emotions, my mouth was running away with me again, and I wondered vaguely if I was still partially intoxicated. "You've got some nerve saying that to me. Who do you think you are, Brad Pitt? Just because you have nice suits and a lot of money and killer looks doesn't make you a god. Maybe I don't want to kiss you either!"

"Bella," his voice cracked, "I didn't say I didn't want to, I only meant—"

"Does this look like the face of a person who cares?" I sneered, hating myself more and more by the second.

_I do care._

Before he could respond, I pushed my chair back, startling Voldy. "Thank you very much for breakfast, Mr. Cullen," I stood up, setting down my unfinished coffee. "Don't worry about the dishes, I'll do them tonight."

"But Bella!" he half rose out of his chair, but I was already in the living room, one hand grabbing my purse, the other opening the door. I paused for a moment, and when he didn't follow me, I took a breath, closing the door behind me.

* * *

**A/N: ***peeks out from behind bushes*

Please trust me. :]

Thank you so much to everyone who voted for TLG over at The Lemonade Stand. I wasn't expecting to be in the running twice (and this time with TheFicChick! If you haven't read _Departures_...well, what are you waiting for?)

A huge thanks to Team Architectward, who has been so supportive and encouraging during the past few weeks, especially with this chapter. :) And thank you to everyone who keeps reading every week (and welcome to the new readers!). I appreciate each and every one of you.

As always, reviewers get teasers. And just a reminder: there won't be a chapter this Friday (12/14). Chapter 11 will be posted 12/21. Keep an eye on my blog for an extra long teaser (pic AND text) this weekend. The link is in my profile.

xoxo


	12. Anger Management

**Chapter 11**

* * *

**EPOV**

_Worst. Day. Ever._

I kept trying to remind myself that there were people all over the world who were having far worse days than I was, but it was difficult when I had that sinking feeling in my gut all day.

On top of Bella's angry fit that I kept replaying in my head over and over again, I was already going through nicotine withdrawals from smoking my last two cigarettes. I spilled my coffee on myself not five minutes after Bella left the apartment in her rage, and now had a burnt crotch. When I went to change my clothes for my morning meeting, I found Voldy's hair all over my suit jacket, and of course, I couldn't locate a lint-roller in the entire apartment. And then, my ridiculous rental car wouldn't start and I had to call AAA and Hertz about a new battery. Once that was taken care of, I was 15 minutes late to the first meeting, and I was hoping James Moore wouldn't say anything to my father about it. I had enough to worry about as it was.

Mainly, worrying about Bella.

Since when did my worries revolve around a girl I'd just met? I should have been able to brush it all off with ease—the kiss, her angry reaction, the whole lot. I had priorities; important business priorities, family priorities, and the odd mixture of the two that had been my life for so many years now. After everything that happened with Leah, Cullen Construction had become the most important thing to me. I didn't get close to people. I didn't care about others, with the exception of my parents and my adopted brother.

Caring about people, worrying about what they thought or how they fared, was taking a calculated risk. A risk that I'd taken before, and was still regretting. I didn't care to be burned again.

And yet, I couldn't help myself. Since the moment I'd laid eyes on her, almost every thought had been about Bella.

As I sat in Mr. Moore's conference room, surrounded by executives in suits just like mine, my hands busy as I handed out plans for the new buildings, my mouth occupied as I recited the pitch while flipping though presentation slides, all I heard was Bella's voice.

_"Does this look like the face of a person who cares?"_

I hurried back to Bella's after the meeting was over, stopping only briefly to buy a bouquet of flowers. The small florist's shop had a book on the counter for guests to leaf through that contained the so-called secret language of flowers. After glancing at the different meanings, I bought a mixture of deep pink roses and pink peonies, to symbolize my gratitude toward my hostess, and my feelings of shame about what I'd said. I wasn't sure that she would let me explain what I'd meant, but the least I could do was try to make her feel better.

Girls liked flowers, didn't they? Esme loved it every time Carlisle brought them home for her. And my mother was the best woman I'd ever known. The only one who hadn't broken my heart or my trust.

But despite all the logic in the world, I couldn't help but wonder if I was falling for this girl after all.

When I got back to the apartment, all the curtains were drawn and the rooms were plunged into darkness. It took my eyes a moment to adjust after being in the San Diego sunlight. A peek down the corridor showed that Bella's bedroom door was shut.

I sighed, and went to find a vase for the flowers. After rummaging under the kitchen sink, I found something that looked like imitation crystal. I rinsed it out and filled it with water before trimming the ends of the stems the way I'd seen Esme do a hundred times.

As I placed the flowers in the vase, I realized that the kitchen looked vastly different than it had this morning. Bella must have come home from work early and cleaned up, as the dishes of food were all put away, and the sink full of dishes that I'd been working on that morning was empty and spotless.

_Maybe she's like Eleazar_, I thought. My brother tended to straighten up and clean obsessively when he was upset or agitated.

I set the vase, now brimming with pink blooms, on the kitchen table, and noticed a plate covered with aluminum foil. A yellow post-it simply said "E." Curiosity got the better of me, and I peeled away the foil to uncover what looked like left over Indian food. A good whiff confirmed curry and rice and Tandoori chicken.

I hadn't realized how hungry I was until just then, and I quickly heated the plate in the microwave before digging in. It was when the fourth forkful of food was halfway to my mouth when I heard Bella's door creak.

I froze, the fork hovering inches away from my lips. Bella's footfalls were muffled by the thick carpet, and then she was standing in the doorway. She was clad in an oversized sweatshirt with the Seahawks logo, and a pair of shorts so tiny that the sweatshirt nearly covered them. It was a good thing the food wasn't in my mouth, or I might have choked at the idea of her not wearing any bottoms.

I set the fork down slowly, unsure of what to say. How could I rectify the mistake I'd made?

She just stared at me, so I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"Thanks for the food."

Bella's brown eyes narrowed. "Even jerks deserve to eat."

I shifted uncomfortably. "I, er...take it you're still angry with me."

"You're so brilliant. How did you ever come to that conclusion?"

Her tone was brusque as she sidestepped the kitchen table to search for something in the fridge. I stood up, hovering by the chair I'd just vacated. _Do I mention the flowers? Do I just say "I'm sorry"? Do I explain?_

She kept her back to me as she poured herself a glass of water from the Brita pitcher.

I took another step forward, and I knew she recognized my closeness; her back stiffened, and her head turned ever so slightly in my direction. Did she feel that magnetic pull the same way I did? My eyes roved down to her legs, wishing she would wear nothing but shorts all the time.

I waited for her to say something. To shout some more, or reprimand me. Something. Anything! But she just sipped her water.

She finally turned to look at me, and her eyes were hard.

The silence was killing me. Before I knew what I was doing, my hand was on Bella's, and I grasped at her fingers eagerly. Her body was stiff, but she didn't pull away. My hands were trembling slightly, and I wasn't sure why. My gut reaction was to be suave and charming—the way I typically was with women—but this woman was different. I had to make her understand, without the charisma and lies that so easily spilled from my lips in the past.

"Bella—"

"What?"

"Please...please, can we talk about this?"

"Please let go of my hand."

She was staring at our fingers. Instead of complying with her request, I drew her hand closer, holding it against me. Her face was set into a frown, but she still didn't resist.

"It was just a misunderstanding. Please, Bella. I want you to understand, more than anything."

"What does it matter? You're leaving in two days anyway."

I paused. Why _was_ it so important?

Bella's eyes slowly moved away from our hands, traveling up to my face as she waited for my response. When her brown eyes met mine, I felt uncertainty radiating from them, hidden behind layers of anger. Anger put up as self-protection. I recognized it. I'd lived it.

We were more alike than she knew.

She was obviously unsatisfied by my lack of an answer, and roughly pulled her hand away.

I faltered. "I—I didn't mean it the way it sounded."

She shook her head, and took a step away from me. "Good night, Edward." She grabbed her glass of water, and retreated from the kitchen.

* * *

**A/N: **Trust me! I have a plan.

Thank you to my beta Misty for getting this back to me so quickly (and, as always, for reminding me of the difference between "brusk" and "brusque"). I love every single one of you who took the time to review for the last chapter (even though many of you were upset), and hugs to those who review every week! I always look forward to your feedback and thoughts.

Two things:

1.) This chapter originally contained about double the content, but today I made the decision to split the EPOV from the BPOV. Chapter 12 is all Bella, and should be ready to post by this weekend.

2.) I know you're all mad at Bella for her untoward reaction. A few of you are even mad at Edward for what he said. I just want you to remember that I'm trying my best to treat them like real people. Real people make mistakes, say stupid things, and react badly when caught off-guard. I, myself, have often backlashed in anger when embarrassed, and I'm sure lots of you have, too.

So, what do you make of Edward this time? Do you think he'll get the courage to tell Bella about Leah? Does anyone have any theories about how we end up in the situation from the prologue? Let me know what you think!

Merry Christmas! (question! What's your favorite holiday film?)

xoxo


	13. A Beautiful Mind

**Chapter 12**

* * *

**Warning! It was recommended that I issue a caveat with this chapter. Emotional responses may result! I don't know if it's to the point of Kleenex...but, yeah. **

* * *

**BPOV**

The majority of my day was spent in anger and tears. I kept trying to pinpoint why I was so upset and shaken by Edward's words. It was stupid, really. He was basically a stranger. We had shared one kiss while both of us were heavily intoxicated (especially me). Nothing else happened, and he was leaving in two days.

_I don't care. I shouldn't care._

The words I'd spit back at him in self defense kept echoing in my ears.

_"Does this look like the face of a person who cares?"_

Liar. I did care. So much. But _why_?

Troubled and full of unexplained hurt, I struggled with my first two patients. A young married couple who had been in a car accident together a year before, they had a joint session of back mobility and hand coordination. Ben and Angela. They were fucking perfect. They always booked their sessions together. They always helped each other, both in and out of the rehabilitation room. Words of encouragement flowed easily between them, even when their faces were twisted in the pain of relearning simple physical movement.

I'd always admired them in the past, but today...today, it almost made me sick to my stomach.

_I'll never have that. I'm going to be alone for the rest of my life. No one wants to date me, let alone kiss me._

Even Edward, who could easily take advantage of me—and trust me, I would have let him—and then bail back to Chicago with no strings attached and no responsibility, said he didn't want to kiss me.

It was all too similar.

By the time Ben and Angela left, I was a mess. I retreated to my office where I broke down, hot tears spilling over my red, blotched face. Alice found me, cleaned me up, and sent me home with orders not to come back until I felt better. She thought I was PMSing. I knew I wasn't.

I barricaded myself in my room with Lord Voldemort, tons of much-too-spicy Indian food, and a trashy novel. The hours passed slowly. I napped. I cried. I threw the book against the wall when the inevitable bodice-ripper sex scene showed up. When I finally emerged to let Voldy out on the patio for his litter box, I found myself plating the leftover food for Edward.

"Don't do it," I muttered to myself, even as I covered the dish in foil and wrote a simple note. "He doesn't deserve it."

But the plate ended up on the kitchen table. I cleaned up the mess he'd made earlier that morning, finished the dishes, grabbed "Love Actually" from my DVD collection, and returned to my Bella cave of weepiness.

I must have fallen asleep again, because Voldy was suddenly meowing in my ear. I perked up, and heard rustling in the kitchen.

_Edward._

My insides churned as I froze, my blanket half covering my legs, Keira Knightly's voice in the background. I hit the space bar on my laptop, pausing the movie. I listened more intently, but couldn't make anything else out. Water was running, and then it stopped. Voldy scratched at my legs, before leaping to the floor and pawing at the door.

I hesitated. Did I dare leave my room? I was thirsty. Too much curry. But leaving meant seeing Edward.

I waited a few more minutes, my warring emotions making a decision difficult. Finally, Voldy's meowing and my dry throat won out.

Not bothering to even check my appearance in the mirror, I opened the door and slowly made my way to the kitchen.

There he was, sitting at the table, eating my leftovers.

He stared at me. I stared back, steeling up my insides.

_Don't let him see you. He'll just hurt you more. Don't you dare cry, Swan!_

"Thanks for the food," he blurted out.

The words forced themselves from my mouth. "Even jerks deserve to eat."

He had the decency to look ashamed. "I, er...take it you're still angry with me."

"You're so brilliant. How did you ever come to that conclusion?" I snapped, moving to the fridge. I grabbed a glass from the cupboard, quickly pouring a glass of water. I was in enemy territory, and the sooner I was gone, the better. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a bouquet of flowers. My heart jumped, but I kept my back to Edward.

Replacing the Brita pitcher, I sensed him moving behind me. It wasn't because of his breath coming closer, or the steps on the kitchen tile—there was something else that alerted my very cells to his nearness. I took a sip of water.

And then he was holding my hand and I nearly dropped the glass. His skin against mine made my heart race, and I was even more angry at myself for loving the way it felt.

"Bella—"

"What?"

"Please...please, can we talk about this?"

"Please let go of my hand."

I couldn't stop looking at our entwined fingers.

_Our hands fit well together. Perfectly. Ugh, stop it!_

His green eyes were boring holes in my very soul. His voice softened as he spoke. "It was just a misunderstanding. Please, Bella. I want you to understand, more than anything."

_What is he doing?_

I bit my lip. "What does it matter? You're leaving in two days anyway."

He didn't answer, and I studied his face for a moment. There was something going on behind those eyes. Something he hadn't told me.

But it was safer not to care. Before I could let myself be swayed by his nearness and undeniable appeal, I snatched my hand back.

He nearly jerked with the force of my movement, stumbling over his words and his feet. "I—I didn't mean it the way it sounded."

"Good night, Edward." I swallowed my heart and practically ran from the kitchen.

#

It was too early for bed, but I couldn't face being in the same room as Edward any longer. Shame was embedded in my nerves.

Jake had apologized, too. He'd brought me flowers and tried to hold me close again. This was just all too familiar. I'd prayed never to feel like this again, and yet here was Edward, reawakening the same embarrassment no woman should ever have to feel at the hands of the man she thought she loved.

_Love?_ I nearly spit the word out loud, catching myself just in time.

I had loved Jacob. I barely knew Edward.

"You're just a stupid girl," I whispered, rummaging in my purse for my cell phone. I needed a distraction.

I dialed the number by heart, and waited patiently for someone to pick up.

"Pasadena Villa, Courtney speaking, how can I help you?"

"Hi Courtney, this is Bella Swan."

"Oh hi!" the receptionist's voice became shrill with excitement. "It's been so long since your last call? How are you?"

I rolled my eyes, dreading small talk. "Oh, fine. And you?"

"I'm just great! I saw your mom today."

I swallowed another sip of water, holding the phone just a little tighter. "How's she doing?"

"Oh, not half bad. She was able to eat in the dining room this morning. It's so great!"

But I had spoken with Courtney enough times on the phone to detect the truth. "Courtney," I said softly. "Tell me."

Courtney sighed, slight static coming through the connection. "She made it to the door of the dining room before she had an episode. She thinks Kate is a ninja who was sent by King Louis XIV to murder her."

I set the water down on my nightstand and pinched the bridge of my nose. "Is she awake?"

I heard rustling on the other end. "Let me check." Courtney put me on hold as she went to contact whichever CNA was on duty.

I waited patiently, absorbing the music meant to entertain me while on hold. Pasadena Villa always chose classical. I faintly recognized Bach from my days of studying for exams.

In a moment, I had my answer. "She's awake," Courtney breathed into the phone. "Amy says she's feeling better now, so it's probably a good time to talk."

"Great. Thanks Courtney," I sat up a little straighter on my disheveled bed, setting the water down on the nightstand. I patted my hair, even though she couldn't see me.

I heard the phone ring on their end as Courtney transferred me. It rang three times before someone picked up.

"Renee's room! This is Amy."

"Hi Amy, this is Bella," I spoke more hesitantly. I'd never met Amy in person. She'd only been working there a few months, and I wasn't sure how I felt about a less experienced person dealing with someone who had my mother's symptoms. But she seemed nice enough over the phone, even if Renee didn't always think so.

"Oh, hi Bella! Your mom is right here," she said just before passing the phone over. My heart started to race, and my palms were suddenly moist. It had been some time since I'd called. Would she remember? Would she rebuke me?

There was always the chance that she wouldn't even remember who I was.

"Hello?" the voice that greeted me was soft. Scared. All thoughts of Edward disappeared as I focused intently on deciphering my mother's mood.

"Hi Mommy," I managed to say cheerfully. "This is Bella."

She paused. "Isabella?"

"Yes, Isabella."

"Oh, Isabella, you said you were going to take me away!" her voice was still soft, but it had turned from scared to a frantic whisper.

I swallowed. She'd had an episode earlier today. She probably still thought that Kate was a ninja, and probably imagined that Amy was an accomplice. At least she knew who I was, which was always easier to handle than the days when she thought I was just a nice stranger who looked like someone she couldn't quite recall.

"Yes, Mommy, someday you won't have to stay there anymore."

_Liar._

"They're after me, Isabella. I play along so that they won't hurt me, but they want to hurt me."

Renee sounded close to tears. I took a deep breath. It would do no good to tell her that the CNAs were there to help her. I could repeat myself until I was hoarse, a broken record, and she would still cling to her illusions. I chose a different route. Distraction.

"Mommy, have you been doing anything for fun? Have you drawn? Or maybe painted?"

Like lightning, her tone changed again. She sounded slightly wistful, like she couldn't quite remember what she wanted to say. "Oh, I watch them painting. They look like they're having fun. I wish I knew how to do that."

I tried to fill in the missing information. She had a habit of leaving out people's names. Not that I could blame her. Half the time, she confused who worked there with her fellow patients. "You watch the people in the painting class?"

"Hmm."

"Why don't you try next time?" I felt tears threatening my eyes, the sharp pain that often accompanies crying creeping up the back of my nose. I cleared my throat.

"I don't know how."

Today must have been a day for old feelings. The same ache I'd experienced at fourteen tiptoed into my chest. "Promise me you'll try. Next time. Just try. Pick up a brush and see what happens."

Renee sighed. "I promise, sweet pea."

I smiled sadly. _Sweet pea_. Our time was up. The longer our conversation, the more likely she was to forget who I was in the middle of a sentence.

"I love you, Mommy."

* * *

**A/N: **Slow burn, remember?

Thank you all so much for your patience and understanding over the last few weeks! Hence you getting your update a few hours early (well, technically like two weeks late, but who's counting?) :) As always, a very special thanks to my beta and prereaders! I couldn't do this without them!

I know I totally failed at replying to the last chapter's reviews. But trust me, I read and cherished every single one. Thank you for your feedback. I appreciate it more than you can imagine! So glad to hear that so many of you can identify with both Edward and Bella's current situations.

So poor Bella is feeling sorry for herself. Do you think she's justified? Oh, the questions! What does Renee suffer from? What happened with Jacob? When will she reveal these things to Edward? When will they finally reconcile and just "do it"? How the fuck do we get back to the prologue?

Stick with me, guys.

xoxo


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